Finnick Odair
by Missbexiee
Summary: The story of Finnick Odair: from his own Hunger Games and mentoring to falling in love with Annie and helping fight in the Rebellion. This is the untold (and complete) story of one of the Hunger Games' most beloved characters and victors, all taking place in his perspective.
1. A Boy from the Water - I

**Foreword:**

** I wrote this story a long time ago and in the midst of Mockingjay excitement I have decided to rework it and edit through some of my "bad fanfic" days (haha). I hope you enjoy the changes and adjustments as well as the newly added situations and descriptions! Stories like these have helped me grow as a writer and I appreciate the continual support!**

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own any of these characters, nor their settings, or plots. All belongs to Suzanne Collins and Lionsgate.**

**Notes about the story:**

**Most of the problems I had with the story when I first wrote it were that you couldn't always find specific chapters, so I promise to label them and leave trigger warnings to certain chapters in the descriptions, though I do encourage everyone to read through because I am very happy with this story now (though in three years I'll probably hate it again, haha). I love Finnick Odair and I hope I do him justice. **

**Thanks to the old fans of the original story, Frick6101719 (for supporting me, haha), LavMenace, and BaconWrappedRainbows (for helping to Beta Read a few chapters).**

**Please enjoy!**

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><p>"Get off of that, boy!" I am startled by my father's gruff voice and knock over the barrel filled with slimy fish fins leaning against the ship. Every pair of squinted crew member eyes start to stare at me; my cheeks get red as I quickly try to fix the mess I had made. The catches of the day lie flopping on the freshly waxed deck as a tell-tale sign of my failure.<p>

My father comes up from behind, picking me right up by the collar of the braided rope I have wound around my neck, usually used for making last minute nets. Try as I might, it's too hard to break free. He dunks me into the water right over the other side of the ship. With what ease that man could lift my already massive body.

Air escapes my lungs as the salty water fills my nose and burns the insides of my throat. I try frantically to push myself out of the stinging water but find it near impossible due to my father's hand. The laughing of the men is audible from all directions. Somehow I need to look strong, I need to keep face – but I know I deserve this punishment.

My father merely laughs cruelly as he fixes what I had failed to. My body is at ease and I stay in the water, watching as he and several others work on tossing the catch back into the barrel. I can see a far part of the ship as I bob slowly – it's bare of people. My young body is still hoping for recovery as I hop onto a far corner, where none of the crew can shame me, rats and other undesirables swarm me as if we're equals... I'd have to agree with them.

I grab my lonesome fishing pole and try to cast it out. I hope that my lady, the ocean, will bring peace to me. _Why did they all hate me_, _why was it so hard for me_?

The sunset reflects into the water which soon becomes lit with little white crystals – the stars have come to decorate the world below. As the ship docks and ropes are thrown, the salty air makes everyone's skin sticky, combining with the mix of dirt and sweat layered on you by a three days voyage. I quickly hop down, waiting for my father to hand me what little remains of our lure. Instead I watch in pain as he hands it to another boy my age – proving that I have upset and ultimately disappointed my father today.

My face grows warm with heat as my emotions catch the better of me. I run off, around the curve of the sandy beach, kicking my sandals off by the dock of ship without a second look behind. I love that crunchy feeling as the warm little pebbles puncture the soles of my feet and stick in-between my toes.

I find it, behind the mountain peak, a small secluded part of my ocean. It hides the ship houses of District Four, the smelly wharfs, and boats. I dive into the water without hesitation, letting the water fill my nostrils and sting, but this time it's a good sting – not one filled with embarrassment.

Swimming, pushing gallons of water behind me and knowing that this creates little rifts and mini waves into the crashing water surrounding everything in my homeland, this is what I do better than anything else in this world. These have been my waters for years now, where I've always come to swim. My stroke was perfected in this vast bowl of blue. I decide to go under, holding my breath and letting my body sink to the floor below. The amazing world beneath me comes into light, the world I've always been jealous of, the world of hundreds of little fish swimming around me decorated in all sorts of different colors and shapes. I manage to steady myself, steady it enough to where the fish come up and suck on my toes, tickling my body as they swim in their patterns.

Three minutes go by until I need air. My father had taught me how to hold my breath like a frog. The trick is to breathe out oxygen in front of you, then suck that oxygen back in. I haven't perfected it, but there's a man around here who dives for pearls in the waters – he can hold his breath for over thirty minutes and it never fails to fascinate me.

I whip my head up out of the water and my hair slaps the bare part of my forehead with a stinging force. I chuckle to myself. No matter how long I want to stay under the water and be with the beauty held below, I'll never be able to hold it long enough. My eyes catch someone out of their corners. A little girl, just staring at me quietly, in disbelief.

Confused, and thinking I had just seen a mermaid, I head back down for another three minutes to ease my mind. I start to cough. No, I hadn't gathered enough air! My body floats back up to the top and my eyes blacken just a tad as my body tries to compensate. But she's still there, just staring at me. Her brown locks brushing a tanned skin that shines in the setting air, little freckles from the sun on her nose ready to dance into the water. I know I've never seen her before.

I watch her intently as she dives in. Thinking she is strange, I swim a bit further out, watching the exact spot where I know she dove. No one comes over to this area of the District so it's strange that suddenly I have a visitor. I wait for a good five minutes, impressed by her diaphragm and how long she's been able to hold it. But then I realize there must be a problem; it's been just a bit _too_ long...

And before I even put all of this together, I have already swam out to that area of the water, diving deep under it in the dark depths of water only to find her covered in seaweed and unwanted treasures. How has she not learned to swim? I grab her small body and prop her on my shoulder without wasting any time. Pushing waves of water behind me I propel us quicker to land, we make our way to the top of the water and I throw her on the sand as I begin to recall the millions of times my father had done this for others.

I push down on her chest, with all my strength, watching the water flow of out her mouth with small, gentle grunts. Following the steady beat I had set I grab her nose and hold it shut. I reach over to her lips and press mine against them, breathing life back into her tiny frame. I watch her eyes shoot open with energy and then calm back down to nothing. She coughs violently as she sits up as if water is still sloshing around deep in her lungs.

All I can do is give her a confused look as I begin to interrogate her in a frantic nervousness, "Why didn't you swim? I mean, are you crazy?" It baffles me; everyone in District 4 has to know how to swim! We're surrounded by water, we work in the water, we live on the water! My heart pounds faster as I stare into the non-responsive girl's face and reprimand her actions, "I was scared! I -" Something stops me and I look into her dense eyes.

She looks _terrified _herself. I can barely make out her whisper, "I wanted to be like you. Swimming beautifully... I wanted to escape to the world down there," her eyes look out towards the ocean in a longing way and something within myself understands her desire to be with the sea, to want to unlock her mysteries.

I laugh nervously and help the girl up. I ask if she would like me to walk her home and she quickly grabs my hand with a shaky breath. My eyes observe this little girl and yet again I am dumbfounded by her actions, yet at the same time slightly intrigued by her very being as if she is perhaps mystical in some way.

"Can you teach me how to swim?" There is a sense of fear wavering in her voice, a fear of me rejecting her. I look into her green eyes, they're just like mine - like the sea, like the water, like the fish. We are the same, one with the ocean.

I nod, giving her a friendly smile that I hope puts her at ease. With little hesitation I tell her I'll come to this spot again tomorrow, agreeing to teach her. Her hand drags down on mine as she sits herself in the sand and begins to watch the stars decorate the water from above. They start creating stronger shapes and shades in the undulating currents. I give her a knowing grin, leaving her there to her own thoughts as I make my way back to my house. It's not far from the water – a boy like me can never be too far from a whispering lady such as the sea.

My father is the head of his ship, there are several in our District. I know he's worked hard to get there and it's of some importance around here... it means a helluva lot to him, I can tell you that. Our home stands slightly larger than some of the others but nothing like the Victor's Village housing closer into the city. No, our house is still a bit cramped, but you can actually stand up in the bathroom – so that's _something_.

The sand reaches all the way up to our boat house, my mother isn't a fan of constantly having to sweep it all out, but I enjoy being able to feel the waves splash up to my calves along the walk back home. I remember being really little, our house was made of wood long before I was born and it's so old now that any remnants of the brownness that once acted as its paint are now grayed away - the water from storms and waves have washed away all of its colors, or maybe it's the salt in the air... how would I know? I'm just a fisherman's son, not some scientist.

Quietly I turn the door knob; you never know who will be home. I look at the rum bottles that lay strewn across the room, dripping their inside contents onto tables and counters. And there she is, my mother, sitting on a chair in the corner of the kitchen, a small dab of fresh blood dripping from her lips as the bruise from my father's fist has yet to manifest itself on her battered skin. She was once pretty in old pictures, they still hang on the walls, but life hasn't been easy on her. An alcoholic husband plagues most sailors' wives, my sister's illness, and me for a son – yeah, none of it has really kept the years off her. I hate to think we've all accelerated this woman into an early grave. Not that I see her much to know her at all, but it's still not fair.

I breathe almost silently as I move through the dark house, stopping quickly as an old board begins to moan, I don't want to wake her, or him, or anybody. I want to just make my way to the small corner of the house, _my_ corner. I open the door that is as high as my chest and duck my way inside. My body is still at an angle as I fall down onto my mattress in the corner. This is a relief to my back, after having been cramped from the past three days where I had been sleeping on the wet wood of our ship. My eyes shift up to look at the crib next to me – my baby sister babbles softly in her sleep. Only one and a half years old, but so much of her life is gone, missing... we surely can't afford the medicines she needs and no one in this family has really shown an effort to obtain them. The Capitol has them, like they have everything, but how could we ever get them at a price less than life itself?

I've noticed how the other people look at me and my family. The men and boys with shots of scorn in their eyes, and the women with flashes of peculiar interest. I am only 14, and yet I have the face and body of a strong young man, my arms, chest and legs are muscular and tan. My sea green eyes, just like the girl at the beach, compliment a dusty dark brown mop of hair.

I won't lie, I know I'm handsome, a beautiful specimen of human even. But in the long run none this will matter. The boys from the school, who refuse to be friendly, try to force my life into a living hell, throwing my possessions around the classrooms, yelling taunts at me. The men on the ship do it as well especially when they make my failures out to be bigger than what they are. Jealousy, the color of green just like my eyes, and oddly enough my own favorite color.

The pillow I throw my head on is comforting, though I am still angry that my thoughts continue to ramble on. How foolish of me to think I'd be more comfortable on the mattress. The rocking of the ship is missing and I am failing to fall asleep. So, I lie here the entire night, trapped in my thoughts as the ocean waves fill the noise in the background of my mind.

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><p><strong>Please feel free to review and comment, I very much appreciate your words. Thank you!<strong>


	2. A Girl and the Waves - II

The next morning I expect bags under my eyes but find none as I stare into the mirror. I know I will have to go to school today and every ounce of my body dreads the very thought.

In District Four, you have the option of missing school for three days in replacement of learning a trade, but on the fourth day you have to attend school by District law. It's an odd tradition, but it follows a fisherman's schedule, keeping all the boys in line with their fathers' voyages. I know my life will one day revolve around the fishing business. I mean, love the water, so there's no problem, but some part of me wants something more, a different life – a better fate than just sipping brandy and beating some woman I happen to sleep next to every few days.

I make my way to our kitchen, where the light is slowly creeping in through the cracks of wood. My hand groggily grabs the salty greenish bread on the table. My mother's lovingly prepared breakfast for her family. I've heard stories from other families... you know where the mother makes fried fish and quail eggs in the morning, while the dad squeezes out fresh pineapple juice – but that must not be my family.

My mother must have made her way to my father's bed last night, ignoring the argument they obviously had had and the drunken fist he clearly paid her. But the breakfast is better than none. Few families starve in Four, but it's not unheard of. We don't eat too well, but if you're a boy on the ship, you get away with bulking up and eating fish. I wonder if this is why I look so much stronger than the boys who don't have fathers in the fishing business; since my father took me on my first fishing trip when I was five, I've always had the privilege of eating fish. It sounds crazy, but most of the people in the town have diets of bread, pig, and papaya. It seems so strange to me, not being able to eat our own export unless it's been picked over and the best pieces are gone. The Capitol, who watches over all of the Districts, makes sure to have more than their fair share so there's never too much of a surplus for us, I bet they think they're doing a favor. _The Capitol_, the word alone makes me want to spit and wash out my mouth.

Just that word in my mouth reminds me: tomorrow was the reaping. That word makes me shiver, _reaping, _there's something so sinister about it_._ I know I have nothing to worry about, my name will only be in the jar three times this year. District Four is huge, we have a small train that runs along our coastline, it picks up kids who live further inland and brings them to the main square – the odds are not against me since the groups are so massive. Nonetheless, it manages to eat at my mind for the whole school day.

I go through the motions. Learning about things I know don't pertain to my future of fishing, like arithmetic and the history of the Lost Years (some people refer to it as the Dark Times, I've heard it changes regionally) where the Districts rebelled against the Capitol. My worst subject is English, but luckily I am always on the ship when we have the class so I'm never really subjected to its toils. I roll my eyes at the comments the other boys throw at me.

"Pretty Boy." "Capitol Bait." "Powdered Eel." The insults themselves mean nothing to me, it's the sting that comes from these boys' tongues that set me off. It stings like salt in your eyes, something that you put up with until it eventually burns too much and you need to come up and wash them out. In art class I am sure I've had enough. I look out the school's windows, just wishing to be by my beach paradise... I ignore the diverse set of eyes cast upon me, some in scorn, and others in a silly school entranced love. It is meaningless to me.

As the school bell rings everyone makes their way out to the courtyard of the village, one of the few areas in 4 not covered in sand or palm trees. It has a small garden to it where some people grow fruits for the community to use – mostly melons, lychee, and cucumbers. The only other places with any full patches of greenery are the town square and the Victor's Village. Occupied to large capacity, since we seem to do well in the games, not as good as District Two or One, but we've had our share of wins. The houses in the victor's Village look so nice. What I would do to live in a house like that – and then I think what I've just thought. To live there would mean to survive the odds and outlive twenty-three other children in a battle to the death. I don't think it's worth it at that point. _But all that money_... I shut the thoughts out, deeming them ridiculous.

I hadn't even noticed my body making my way to the square. Looking at the fish in the shops, some that I swear are my catches from the day before. I make my way to my favorite shop. Lined with fishing supplies and chock full of tridents, spears, and rods. There are also a few special pieces, nets and baskets weaved by my own two hands, the owner loves to display them even if they are of a lower quality than hers. The old lady shuffles her way out from the back closet to smile at me.

"Finnick, my dear! Come, come!" I happily walk in. Nana Koa, as I call her, has been the nicest member of my family since I met her. She's not actually my grandmother or nana, she just likes to humor me and offer me her shop as a place of refuge from my father. Everyone's pretty much aware of his penchant for liquor and roughhousing, and I'm glad to know there's at least some place in the coastal shore I can call home.

Nana Koa places a piping hot bowl of clam chowder in front of me. I slurp it down grinning stupidly as she tells me stories of her dead husband. I've never met him, but he sounds like a bunch of fun. Always sarcastic, always 'swearing like a sailor', covered in tattoos. I laugh as she tells me how he once knocked himself out of the boat on Yuletide... it's a kind of humor only people in Four can have – laughing at our tragedies, hoping that this can keep us going til it's all over.

I begin to talk about school, and how hard it is with the others there. It's hard, I don't want to sound as if I'm whining, at least Nana Koa seems content to listen. She strokes my hair as my face flushes with the heat of sadness once more. Like a trained mother she hushes me, as if I am a young boy on her lap begging for some free treat or answer to a riddle. She sets her eyes gently, telling me to be a warrior and not get upset, as she always does. I first learned jealousy from this woman, how painful and hurtful the vicious circle is – at least she figures by the time I'm her age none of it will matter anymore, that jealousy is a juvenile thing.

She gives me that hug old people give young people, the really tight one that wraps you up and almost suffocated you. Her smile invokes her intentions repeating once more that the people who trouble me now are unaware of the effect their words can have. She motions to my chowder as if signaling the end of our consoling session and telling me to eat up, her body disappears into the back of the shop and behind the old curtain that acts as her door between her home and the shop. As I begin to lick the bowl clean of slippery sea soup as most growing boys do, she throws me a rope and a trident. My eyes light up with optimism that the day can yet be salvaged.

"Mind catchin' me a real big swordfish?" She winks at me, always knowing what I want - go out to the sea and enjoy myself. The smart woman does what she can to answer my questions and problems, but the ocean is the girl with the real answers, she can listen forever and ever. I throw the trident around my shoulders and drape the rope over top its spokes. With a quick turnabout I wave back to Nana Koa in the shop, hop down the steps, and practically running into the mountains that obstruct our coastline. Technically we aren't supposed to fish for sport, or even for food. If the peacekeepers cared they'd call me on it, but I know they don't mind – they can probably pass it off as a man going out to sea on a new voyage.

I am surprised to see a familiar face in my mountains, until I remember why she is there. Her nature beckons to me, and I sit down next to her, apparently my coming was unnoticed by her for she keeps quiet. I stare until I catch glance of what she's looking at. The sunset. "The sea is magic isn't it? It can make even the prettiest things prettier." I say this to her trying to get at least some sound out of the quiet body.

She nods as she acknowledges me. I remember our deal but she doesn't ask me about it, we have a silent agreement to sit in silence next to one another. The young face stares but becomes distracted in awe as I begin to quickly knot up the rope in my hands into a net of prestige.

I look at her face and smile, "I know, people say it's hard, but knotting the ropes into nets is relaxing to me – so I'd say it's pretty easy," I throw it firmly in my other hand and grasp the trident in the other, then I beg her with my hands to come follow out to the water. She shakes her head and blushes.

"I don't know how to swim," she reminds me in a whisper that is a little louder than the one before. My smile grows mischievous as I grab her body and throw it over my shoulder with ease. She screams, panicked at first but slowly turning into a playful whine as we splash into the water. Her body sinks with me as she cups her breath and shuts her eyes tightly, all the while grasping onto me for dear life. I laugh as we come back for air. I try to steady her in the water. Her body shakes with fear but those eyes flirt with adventure.

"I won't let anything happen to you," I reassure her, "I promise."

Her eyes quickly switch to form a look of undeniable trust, one I'm unused to. I use my arms to help move her legs and feet, teaching her how to float. She grasps this idea quickly and her face beams brightly with a smile. I return the gesture with a toothy grin.

I start teaching her my tips... don't waste your energy flailing around if the water overtakes you. Steady yourself to a float, using only short bursts of energy when necessary – this is what I was told to do if I was ever stranded at sea. Then I teach her all the different strokes of swimming that I can quickly think of. Ones to use when you're close to land, ones that exert lots of energy from your arms, others with your legs. Even I am surprised with her quickness and ease of learning these. She listens to every word I say, letting it process as she does exactly what I say the next second. Soon we are about two miles away from shore.

I want to explain all the details and lore of tridents, the mysteries behind them and the numerous stories that surround the weapon, showing her up close as we float together. Her eyes look it over. I explain its purpose and find my target. The pink creature I spotted earlier is beneath us. I have her hold the trident as I dive deep down into the water. Holding my breath, I slowly and gently cast my net around the creature before if even knows I am there. I take a look around at the ocean floor, I am always sad when my body starts to float its way back to the top. I see the colorful rocks that I wish were my home as I am sucked back to the top. I kick back up with the swordfish in my net and take the trident from her hands, steadying the fish as I puncture it fatally. The blood mix with the water surrounding the once living being in its large sea of water. With my catch in hand we both head back to shore.

"It's not good to be alone in the dark while in water. It can only lead to death," I explain as I clean off the swordfish. She touches its scales.

"So beautiful," she mouths. I feel like I am the only human who can make this out.

"I know. The creatures of the sea are magnificent. So many different types and -"

She stops me, "I meant you. You don't look real. The way you throw the net, the way you puncture with the trident, and your eyes... it's just."

This girl isn't making any sense and I just quiet her as we lay in the sand, drying our skin on its heated earth. The sky is dark and filled with stars, but the sand is just beginning to cool off, it's still hot from today's sun. I point out what I know about the stars.

"They are a fisherman's best friends. They can show you where you're going and what time it is. They explain it all." I point out the North Star and explain the others and their mythical stories. She finds it fascinating and asks where I've learned all these from. But they're all ship stories, every sailor knows them. Then I point out how far one of the stars stretches and how we should head home since its late. She sighs. Even in the darkness though, I can see her smile.

I am expecting just a thank you but am returned with a heavy and long-held hug. "You're my first friend," she squeaks out.

That's the loudest I have ever heard her. I pull her closer, knowing that emotions are getting the best of me. _You're my first friend too_, I want to yell it out. But I don't. I just let her hold onto me as I put my chin in her damp hair.

At some point we are forced to pull away and we walk together on the beach. She confides in me about the other girls in her grade disliking her. I feel my Nana Koa externalize as I tell her to ignore those people. We reach my house and I am forced to depart from my new friend. I think about it, besides a few adults she really _is _my first 'real' friend. Someone who's not trying to befriend me because of my looks, or because they want to prank me. She's a real person I can trust.

"Until tomorrow then!" I smile. A thought strikes me, "Perhaps I can get another trident and we can fish next time?" I enjoy the thought of being in the company of my new friend.

I can see the corners of her mouth move up but only a disheartened voice comes out of it, "too bad tomorrow is the reaping though. I guess we'll see."

She turns away before I can give her a hug to say goodbye. The reaping. I had actually forgotten about that, usually just its name eats me up all day! I head into the house, put the trident and dead fish on the table – I'm sure it will please my mother – of course, I need to remember to return them both to Nana Koa early tomorrow.

To my surprise I am actually able to sleep. I think about how ridiculous it would be for my name to be called. I've never been added in extra times – which can happen if times are bad and you need more food, but my family has never needed it to come to that. I think about the girl. How do I not know her name yet? I think she must be young though. Most likely only twelve... it'll be her first year and I bet her name is only in their once.

I dream, a happy dream. Being out on sea, what could be happier? There's a boy that looks like me. Or maybe it _is_ me, I am unsure... but whoever it is, he is happy... out at sea with his father. I wake up and notice where the sun shines in the sky, dread presses down on my body once more.

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><p><strong>Thank you for your reviews or feedback, always greatly appreciated!<strong>


	3. The Reaping - III

**Next chapter! Never realized how long this one was; hope you like reading, guys!**

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><p>Sedna begins stirring next to me and her soft whine picks up in volume. I pick her up and lay her on my shoulder she's almost two years old but suffering in the head. Chills run down my spine as I feel the large scar on the base of her head, bumped over and healed... I remember running and crying that night, quickly running to the neighbor's house with my body covered in blood as I incoherently explained how my father was trying to kill. My voice hums as I try to soothe her and go about my business.<p>

I put on my reaping outfit with one hand – a nice formal outfit, usually worn for weddings or funerals, frayed at its edges because of time. The Capitol forces us to go to the reaping dressed up and looking nice for the camera. _The cameras_. I hold my little sister tightly as I look around the house. Her crying has finally stopped. For the first time I notice that the house is empty. I devote a moment in my head as to trying to figure out where my parents could have gone off to, but it's gone in a few seconds and I don't Grier it any more attention.

"Who cares," I say to myself. My little sister's mouth gapes open as I feed her mushed up bananas. She falls into my arms as I scoop her and last night's catch up. I have about an hour before the reaping begins so I figure I'll go find Nana Koa's shop and return the fish and her supplies. We're through the town and seconds, people are already being corralled into viewing lines.

Nana looks at me with the sad look she only ever has on reaping days. I know she lost her son to the Games. I give her the reassuring smile that I give everyone as she takes Sedna out of my arms with a frown.

Applause comes from outside and Nana Koa follows behind as I take my leave from the store and begin to walk through the crowds of people. I wave goodbye as I find myself to the "slaughtering" table, nine peacekeepers sit in tall chairs as they check off the names of those in the age bracket... if you don't show up they make a big search out of it and humiliate you in front of your village for being a coward. Apparently it happened to a kid a few years ago, so sick he couldn't move, when they found him I guess they beat him pretty good and he was gone a few days later... I'm sure it's just a story though, I don't know anyone who would dare not show up – sick or not.

I know where I'm going already, having done this before. There are 12 groups of kids lined up and inside roped off areas that look like pig pens. Ages 12 to 18, girls and boys separated. As I move closer to my coral the faces become more and more familiar, though people with darker skins, olive skins and blond hairs dot the groups – being from the mainland. The boys around me chat but no one is mocking anyone else, it would be bad karma... we are all hushed down as the ceremonies begin to open.

My eyes squint to get a better look of the city hall building, where our mayor lives there. You can't really see the building, instead there are three large TV screens set up to each side obstructing its pillars. Cameras are set up on the tops of all the buildings, just itching to catch our reactions. I see a large blue figure on the stage and a booming voice fills our district signaling the opening of the first gate of hell for two people.

"Cherished and honorable greetings to you all! I am pleased to be in District 4 yet again! As I am sure all of you are curtly aware of on this fine morn of splendor, it is the beginning of the 65th Hunger Games!" A small roar of applause comes from the audience. I have to force myself to clap. Since the games are typically in our favor, some act like they enjoy them... most of the sailors on the ships without families take bets as to who will be picked. They make a real big show out of it.

The big blue figure on the stage bobs his head around as he accepts the applause of the audience as his own. Thomps is his name; he's the man who supposedly keeps our tributes on schedules as they're selected. His voice has always rubbed me the wrong way, so demanding and sinister a voice, the strange Capitol twang to it adds to the overall creepiness.

"Let us all make a warm welcome for your returning mentor and 13th Hunger Games victor, Mags!" I actually clap for her whenever I see her about she smiles and I know she's always talking with Nana Koa, the two were schoolmates. Mags is a relic of the district. Some other victors filter in and join her in the seating behind the stage but they are nothing like her, she helped every single one of those victors win their games – it's her job to mentor the poor kids who are chosen as tributes, though she's had quite a few winners in the past. It's odd to look at her up close on the TV screen, it's the one time I haven't seen her smile... she actually appears rather unimpressed with the whole spectacle. I guess doing this for most of your life, though, isn't the most entertaining thing to look forward to every year.

Thomps takes the attention once more, going into a long winded explanation of why we, District 4, fight in these games – none of it interests me too much. It's the same jaunder they tell us every year... because of the war that started a whole sixty-five years ago, all twelve districts must send one boy and one girl to fight to the death in a no-rules brawl. _ T__his is the price we pay for losing the war_, I mouth this as it comes from Thomps' microphone – they tell us this all the time, even in school, in case we forget while going about our daily lives in fear.

Thomps makes his way to the big reaping jar, where all of our names are. The ladies are always first. It's weird how everyone is silent because District 4 is never a silent District... there's always bells ringing, sailors shouting, boxes thumping to the ground – but it's silent now. Oddly, I look up as Thomps fishes around to notice the high shoes decorating his feet; one's that you typically see on women, it makes me want to laugh until the gravity of these games comes back to me. The Capitol is weird.

"Nicky Klytie!" Thomps yells as he reads out the name. The crowd opens like a machine for the 16 year old; she slowly begins her way to the stage, fighting tears. As she passes her cheeks quiver and for a moment I hear that shaky breath almost as if it is my own.

"Congratufantanulousations my dear!" He yells flamboyantly as he begs the audience to clap for the scared girl. Judging by the facial reactions of the front row on the TV, he just spit on them with his mouthfuls of words. We clap slowly and quietly, some grow louder as they root for a winner. I know there's someone out there though, holding back cries of their own in order to keep their daughter, sister or friend in a good light.

Everything distracts me in this moment, but then it's clear to me what's next. The boys are up.

I look around my group nervously, I see the younger boys in front of me huddle slightly closer to one another, all twelve and thirteen. Us, in the fourteen year old group stand strong, even though our eyes must be telling a different story. I wish I was one of the eighteen year olds, chewing on my nails and waiting for that sweet sign of relief that you're never going to be seeing the games.

A scroll passes on the TV screen that I use to distract myself with... _May the Odds Be Ever in Your Favor_. I hate that line, but to be honest I am rolling the dice right now. We all grow still as Thomps pull out a name. I forget everything in that moment, morals, beliefs, values – all I do is pray my odds are good for once. I glance up to the stage, unable to hear anything, then I see the screen. I see my name, and I know that the odds must be wrong.

The boys in my group push me out into the front, relieved its not their sorry asses going in. I switch between watching girls whine in protest between boys cheer on in support. I wonder if the cameras will use this to make me come off as popular. My ears have already switched off as I try to make my way up the stairs. Watching the faces of victors now, looking me up and down, I remember the smiles and waves they once made as they walked on – look strong, look strong, these are the only words I understand at the moment.

I don't know the sixteen year old girl, but Thomps grabs both our hands and hold them high up in the air, showing us to the audience who seems to be in an uproar. We are quickly led inside the city hall and into separate rooms. I've never noticed the beauty of the hall before probably because I've only been in here a number of times in my life. It's old, but has thick white molding that pays tribute to the sea wrapping all around the walls of the building. I actually like it. Nana Koa barges in through my door and her body lunges into mine for a long embrace that never softens as her sobs grow louder and less controllable.

"We only have a little bit of time and even this isn't enough to tell you all I wish to say," she clasps my face before continuing, "but please, Finnick, you are a strong, handsome boy, I am sure the crowd will love you. _I love _you," she hugs me close and it starts to make me fall prey to tears. She pulls back once more, "_you_ cannot cry."

Her wrinkled hands wipe at my eyes as she places a kiss to my cheek, "I will take care of Sedna," she pauses, looking at me for a long moment, "You are such a golden boy." She gulps down, throwing all these words at me, moaning loudly in pain as we both try to extinguish the tears and look strong, "You know my son died in these games, oh, please Finnick try -" A peacekeeper comes in and begins to prod Nana Koa out. I reach out and grab her hand grasping at the fingers tightly, kissing her forehead and moving for Sedna's as her crying starts to resume.

My mind swirls with thoughts. Most of them are questions I can never answer: Why?

But it's too late for such quandaries as Nicky and I are quickly loaded into a train. Never in my life had I had a need to be this far past the square. Odd how you live in an area your whole life and never really get to see it until you're leaving it. The train station is large, and well used. Not by anyone of our caliber though, only high, classy titles get to use it. Most of us are forced to stay within the district. Tributes, victors, politicians, people from the Capitol – those are the people who get to use the trains.

My mouth drops at what I see as we step inside a passenger train. Pure luxury. Plush couches, with soft velvety green cushions – the color of home. Already I feel home-sick though, and we haven't even left yet. The walls are draped in a white cloth as pure as fresh sand. I look out the window. District Four and it suddenly seems irresistible, perfect in every way – even the wharfs covered in bird droppings, all of it looks better than whatever lies in my future. And what was I leaving them for? My death. I search the faces in the crowds for the girl from the beach, I never asked her name... and now I'll probably never know. As I watch the faces mix together the train starts to move and the drapes are drawn closed. I turn and notice everyone sitting at the large table.

"Come join us, pretty boy." The words sting somewhat, but I listen to Nicky's suggestion and join them. I gather myself at the table and watch with wide eyes as we are served decadence on a plate. Long strands of noodles, these small white grains I have never seen before, and meat. Meat! I have eaten lots of fish, but meat from animals is rare, the occasional pig here and there but never this... this bird creature! I rip off one of its wings as I would a lobster and I begin peeling off the meat from the bone.

Thomps smiles as he explains how he has the best of all the worlds, how adorable we tributes always look when we see the new foods. I nod in acknowledgment of him as I begin digging into a deer when they bring out dessert and my mouth really begins dripping. Chocolate. The only time I had had that before was when we traded with those hairy strangers out in the ocean. I reach out to grab the whole cup as Nicky looks at me like I'm crazy.

"It's the best stuff in the world!" I hold the bowl to her taunting her to try it. She scoops a finger in the melted brown goo and I can tell the exact second when the sweetness has just hit the tip of her tongue. We both dig into the pot now. If we had acceptable manners before, they are gone now as we lick this bowl of chocolate and order more. Surely the Capitol has plenty to share with us.

I watch our mentor laugh at us wholeheartedly. Really I should be asking her about the games and tips but the next bowl of chocolate is brought out and I shut myself up. She smiles at me as I lick it clean up.

She never stops smiling, unlike when she was out on the stage. It's funny to watch her do it because her eyes almost disappear when her wrinkly face presses into a grin.

"How do we win?" Nicky asks this as she places the bowl of chocolate back onto the table looking at the old lady. The question makes sense to me... of course we have to kill the all tributes from the 11 other districts, but by means of winning there are no real rules, strategy is new and different every year for every person. Thomps answers before Mags finishes her chewing.

"You don't die... have you no watched the games before?"

"No, she doesn't mean it like that. We want to know secrets. What do we grab, what don't we do? Of course we know what we've seen on TV, but how do you _really _win? How do you defeat the others?"

"Water." Mags smiles, she makes this one word, it comes out raspy and broken. I nod and Nicky looks at the two of us in confusion.

"What about the water? We find it or we use it? How do we know if it will be there?" She seems frustrated with Mags's one-worded answer.

"She means, we have to find it," I explain to her. Nicky shoots a look at me, and Mags nods. I feel a connection to her already. It's no question as to her and Nana being friends, "Survival comes first?"

Her graying head bobs down again.

Nicky throws her hands up, "Great! We have a mute mentor!" Her hands throw her napkin on the table, covered in chocolate smudges. The shoes she's wearing stomp loudly as she takes her exit.

I shrug my shoulders and then copy Nicky's voice, "Great! We have an angry tribute!" I laugh and so does Mags. We smile at each other. Then I see a boot flying through the air, the breeze tickles the tip of my nose before I catch it. No damage is done. For some reason I'm satisfied as I hear an angry sigh from the next car over, fully knowing that she hadn't hit me.

Thomps looks at me surprised, "You have some good reflexes? That'll come in handy." I look to Mags for reassurance something I feel will form a habit. She nods. I continue asking the two of them about the basic theories I have from watching the show my whole life and am answered with nods and angry shakes of the head. I seem to have a good idea of what I need to do but my nervous still seem to bounce around, my hands haven't even stopped shaking yet.

Oh, I plan on winning no doubt – for Sedna and Nana Koa. Why would I throw my life away? I _am_ coming back a victor. So far, I know to make an alliance, one that is strong but easy to break off, I have to find water, particularly a place with fish, and I really need to play up attractiveness while also being promiscuous. This is how I am supposed to get the audience to send me gifts. By this they mean having sponsors – rich people in the Capitol who spend lots of money hoping I win, since they betting on the games is extremely popular in the Capitol. Being attractive helps, too.

I make my way to my compartment only to see the Capitol coming into view. If mouths could actually unhinge from the jaw, mine would be on the floor. There's nothing to describe the colors and the glow... millions of colors mix together like a rainbow. I take a second glance when we finally pass by people, decked to the max in elaborate costumes, bright long lashes, white skin, they look crazy – but oh, how rich?! Screams surround us when I exit out of the train.

We watched our recap of the reaping on the TV while we passed through District 1, the announcers were apparently thrilled I was picked, they kept commenting on the 'Handsome Poseidon' or the 'God of the Sea.' I had never been complimented like that before. And yet Mags' nods keep ringing in my head, give the audience what they want, they've made it clear they want my face and body.

The Capitol citizens wave up at me, smiling widely and shouting a wide array of supportive words, it's mostly women, at some point Nicky snakes out from behind me. Nicky really is pretty, though, bronze skin with bleach blond hair. Her eyes are this striking gray color and in every way she looks really unique. The crowd isn't cheering for her though, I feel bad, until I notice she is a possible enemy. Actually, I don't even know her skill... I can make rope and throw sharp things with great accuracy. But what can she do? Maybe she is a valuable ally? Or maybe she's a kid set up to get killed at the Cornucopia.

The crowd tears me from my thoughts and I give them a cocky smile as I step back into my costume for the show. I rip off the shirt covering my muscles and watch as the crowd swoons. It's so funny to me, such outrageous reactions to simple actions, Mags looks over at me and gives her smile of approval. We are led off the train to a hotel of sorts. I can feel the tributes from 1 and 2 throwing me glares as well... everyone except the Sponsors and Mags seem out to get me right now – that'll change in the arena though. It has to change.

We are led up a tube to the fourth floor. It is gorgeous, again, that word can so easily describe the whole Capitol. I slump back into a couch as they explain to us the rules for training tomorrow. Tonight will be the opening ceremonies, but there's not too much for us to worry about. Mags looks at Nicky and I intently.

"What's up, Mags?" Nicky doesn't take the bait, so I do.

"Tridents," she stops to take a breath, talking like this is hard for her, and then another word comes out, "Knives." I know the tridents were directed to me, but what did it mean? I'm not even sure how she knows Nicky might be good at knives.

She shakes her head, "I've only ever helped my dad clean the fish, I don't know how to do anything else with the knives."

I ponder this. When I was younger Nana Koa had taught me how to clean fish, the popular technique is called fileting, where you cut the fish's skin and meat off to the bone. It's scary to think about this in another way – what kind of damage could you do to another human by fileting their body? I shudder. I question whether I should explain what Mags means by her statement. Isn't Nicky an enemy? Or perhaps, if I come off friendly, there can be that small alliance I am supposed to make. And by the way people have looked at me, I already know not too many people are keen on helping me.

"Filet a fish – think about it. What could you do if you got someone on the ground?" That's all I say until Nicky's eyes light up.

Thomps speaks up, "Well here is my two shiny cents – even though I could offer 2,000!" He laughs as we all stay silent, then he collects himself. "Go to survival skills, they are always empty, but it is important. Say there are no weapons for you, Finnick? They'll teach you how to make traps, food is important too, what if there's no fish?" He gets distracted by the big bottle of wine that appears. He pours four glasses. "To us!"

I hold up my glass, never before have I drank wine. Nicky drinks the glass before we even finish the toast and pours herself a new one. I watch sweat drip from her brow. She seems worried, scared even. I suppose I am too, but I keep getting distracted – how do I win, who do I please next? The game has already began for me.

"To us," I repeat. "To District Four!" I add. Mags smiles at that which makes me feel a little more at ease with the situation. The wine slides into me like a sauce, tickling my brain as the room takes a moment to droop down a bit. I know alcohol does stuff, I've watched my parents enough to know this – but I didn't know it did anything like this. After several glasses that had been haphazardly shoved into my hand I can't even hear what's being said to me while we pull back to the elevator, as they call it, and are taken down to the Remake Center... you know, to become _beautiful_.

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><p><strong>As always reviews are appreciated! Thank you for reading!<strong>


	4. The Tribute - IV

**Another long one... sorry! Actually for future reference these are all kind of long. :)**

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><p>I hear a squeal as I arrive; it's obviously coming from the prep time. They rush me large eyes and wide arms, "We've never gotten to work with someone already SO gorgeous!" I gush at this comment.<p>

Oddly enough, their hair has been dyed the same color as mine, it's quite the contrast from the other people of the Capitol with the crazy neon and pastel styles – theirs seems rather natural. I laugh to myself, thinking of how they must believe they're are starting some kind of trend and all it is sun-kissed hair.

They begin to go to work without exchanging any other words, though their merry humming is rather loud. Globs of some burning substance is poured onto my legs, I cringe as a piece of fabric is laid on top and immediately ripped back off. Pricks of pain dance across the inflicted area leaving little hair behind.

There's not much to do except watch and cringe, a few creams they lather on are itchy, some smelly and others almost electrifying. I sit and listen, down the hall yells of other tributes can be heard, some begging others giving in and sobbing... I know it hurts and is a bit annoying, but I don't think this is that bad? One of the stylists notices my eyes trying to wander to the rooms down the hall. She smiles.

"Oh sweetie! What you hear is just what happens to the uglier tributes, I mean, you're already done!"

They pass me a mirror laced with gems and I take a breath before looking at myself. I hardly look different. My hair is cropped a bit differently and my eyebrows are trimmed, if only this is what has changed then I must already be the definition of Capitol beauty. I run my hands down my legs amount, noticing that my whole body is still bare, but everything feels smooth and some of the bruises I've had blackening my skin are now gone.

The stylists lift me from the chair and walk me into a second room, connected to the first. A hand reaches out to me as a form of salutations and my eyes grow wide towards the bizarre sight in front of me.

A tall, and I mean _tall_, white wig covered in random things reaches up about a meter above her head. She has it topped with varying flowers but mostly purple ones, a few golden fish details, a swirling berry chain that wraps it all up and a pointed white crown on top of the whole thing. She must be crazy, this is overdone even for the Capitol. And her makeup is even weirder – a thick black line around her eyes that pokes out at the sides and lips that are whited out with the rest of her face except for the plum colored heart in the middle. These same lips turn up when they see me and she moves to grope one of my arms, causing her corset to scream and the large balls of flesh bounce with the slightest motion.

"Simply... handsome... you, my boy, are the most prepossessing tribute I have ever had the pleasure of meeting," her tongue drags on her s's and almost comes out like a purr. The voice is very deep and becoming of her, the more my eyes get to study her the more elegant some of her detailing becomes.

She gives her prep team a nod signaling that their time is no longer needed. As they disperse the gentle arm crawls around me and walks me towards a dressing station, "Oh, come now darling, we must make haste to get you looking your very best... I have the prefect costume picked out already."

I try to remember other outfits from past Hunger Games. Typically we're thrown in sailor outfits or something that has to do with the water. One year the poor kids got stuck in fish costumes, rows of rope with varying aquatic life dangling from them to cover their bits – it was not a popular look since even people in the audience could smell the stink of old catches.

She sits me down on a couch, it's a fancy one just like everything in the Capitol, but I really sink into this one, "Alright," her smile widens as she goes about collecting fabrics and folding them onto a table, "when I was trying to strike up inspiration for this piece my mind immediately went to fish," and my heart sinks.

I try to hide my disappointment but my scrunched nose gives it away that I'm remembering that horrible costume the others were tortured with, she notices, "Oh, but heavens no! Finnick, my darling, are you possibly insinuating that _I_ would put _you_ in something like that bad fish catastrophe?" Her head shakes with several tsks of the tongue, "Oh, no no no!" Her arms pull me to a stand and she begins prodding around the room for the outfit. She returns with a decorated wooden box, locked with an intricate piece of metal hanging from it.

"How is _that_ a costume?" I ask. She looks at the box and laughs.

"Just cover your eyes for a moment and let me show you."

I follow her direction and immediately regret it as I feel her cold hands pressing slime on my body. _Oh god_,_ this will be a disaster_. But it's not like I can really say anything. As tributes we must follow the Capitol's direction, _they know best_. My eyes grow wide as I try to keep them shut when I feel the cold hands grab in between my legs and wrap something around it. It's hard not to jump a bit when she's feeling me up and around like this. She really shows no shame for such an "elegant" woman.

After thirty minutes she turns me around and permits me to open my eyes. To my relief I am not covered in slime or fish, just golden scales tracking my body. Somehow she managed to make my bronze skin compliment the gold to the point I actually look like I'm glowing. The scales are somewhat scarce near my chest but trickle down to become more plentiful on my legs. But of course there must be a bit of Capitol in every piece and the golden starfish strapped into place, by means I don't want to imagine, onto my crotch is certainly supposed to be the crowd pleaser of this ensemble.

My contact with the mirror is broken when she moves to place a golden crown on my head, the crown seems to come alive and its curves look like splashes with the gems placed to evoke ocean life (lots of blues). Then it hits me, I know what I am. A mermaid. Or, in my case a merman. The stories of my childhood come back to me, about the mystical creatures who were both powerful and beautiful. Who ever thought one day I would actually get to embody one? I step back. Everything together looks incredible.

"I've got to hand it to you, your hands know what they are doing!" She blushes at my compliment.

"Oh my darling," she smiles while holding both my shoulders back, "This costume just screams your name. It says I am Finnick Odair, master of District Four... and my designer Noqall is the absolute best and needs new customers!" She laughs as she begins rubbing my oiled body, "It's probably time for you to get to the chariot."

I wait around as Noqall goes out to prepare the horse, we certainty saved time in the remake center by not having to adjust much. My eyes float around the room out of boredom and land on the coffee set out on the marble table before me. I usually hate the stuff but there are these weird cubes of white sitting in a glass cup next to the pot – maybe they're weird Capitol cookies, or something. I grab one and pop it in. The sweetness is overpowering. I put them in my hands (instantly addicted) and notice Mags shuffling up to me her long graying hair swaying as she moves. She takes one of the cubes from my hand and smiles jokingly while looking me over. I laugh back, nothing like an old lady checking you out!

She reaches for my hand and walks me over to our horse. The whole center is connected to the stables and the auditorium for opening ceremonies. Our horses are a jet black with perfectly wound hair, looks like they've been to the remake center as well... Mags walks over to ours, the fourth from the right, and begins to feed some of the sugar. This black creature's long tongue reveals itself and licks Mags' hand while making an odd noise with its mouth. I notice this is the first time I've seen one of these up close, they're not the typical animal you see in District Four. Slowly I move over to pet his hair, it's incredibly soft.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see Nicky behind me with a cocked hip. She looks amazing. Her eyes try gauging my reaction and she rolls her own, "Don't be so surprised! Of course I am beautiful." We both share an awkward laugh.

She is a very similar ensemble that I now wear, the biggest difference is that her breasts are covered with the golden starfish to make them look fuller. Her crown is also different, with hanging shells and an intricate braid wound into it all. We look fantastic together.

I help her in the cart and feel a wave of accomplishment at being so lucky to this point, something I know I should only be feeling if I ever manage to actually win this crazy thing. We can only watch as District One's carriage pulls out, ours will soon follow being so close to in the line.

The horses begin their trot without warning, trained to know what to do. Initially the light blinds both Nicky and I, though it's really the reflection of our gold costumes that cause the most light diffraction. The crowd goes crazy as our faces are pulled onto the large TV screens. On instinct I wrap my arm around Nicky, trying to come off as more friendly and confident than I really am. I can feel her brewing hatred for me as her body stiffens.

It actually becomes rather fun, smiling and being cheered for. Something comes over me and I take a cue to begin flexing the muscles in my arms and make several provocative poses and gestures out to the ladies. This drives them over the edge. I look behind me – glares – several eyes full of fear as well. It's interesting to look back at their costumes, District 11 of course, dressed like the usual farmers in glitzy colors, and poor 12 dressed naked like us but in a dusted, black coal and not gold. I turn back around and keep the crowd occupied as President Snow says something... his figure is imposing, tall and stoic. In the heat of it all I admit no time to listen to his words, no, instead my time is devoted to the Capitol – to my sponsors...

"Wake up!" I feel Thomps pushing me out of bed, I start to roll and leave with a thud on the ground. He makes a face that almost seems sympathetic as he picks me back up onto the bed and gives me a cup of coffee with the offering of sugar cubes. I only eat the sugar. Nicky comes over into my room, already dressed.

"You're lucky. They let you sleep in, after the party, I'm not surprised you're such a lightweight!" The bed contorts to fit her shape, it's made of some new technology that conforms to every person who touches it, "We get to meet the others today... I know we haven't really ever talked before. You're always out at sea with your dad, aren't you? My dad cans the fish and slices them. We come from two different places, Finnick. I bet you're going to do great in those games, I'll probably be a member of the bloodbath club."

"You're a good person," and with that Nicky turns into the girl from the beach – someone feeling down on themself. It's in my nature to want to nurture and console, sometimes I think it holds me back.

"No. Just stop all this Finnick. We both know I'm going to die in this. Would you..." she stops then starts again, "would you win for the sake of Four? You're the only one I'd want to see winning."

"Nicky, you should never talk like that, never count yourself out. You're a beautiful girl, and you're pretty funny." I smile at her, when people are down on themselves it makes everything awkward. Her face shoots back at me with a mixture of anger and horror.

"Ugh," she moans, "that is it, Finnick! I really want to hate you, but I can't. _I can't_. You're so nice... like the gold last night, yea, that's what you are," she grumbles to herself, "Gold on the outside, and gold on the inside," She laughs a little and it's unsettling, "I hate it. A guy like you should be a jerk, not someone who's nice as well."

"It's time, lovely tributes! Finnick would you please put your clothes on, I don't think you'll want to show off in the nude for the Gamemakers?" Thomps points to the pile of clothes I've ignored while sitting here in my bed with nothing on but a pair of shorts. But the only thing that has registered with me from that last statement has been the mentioning of the Game Maskers. The ones who make this whole experience hell. I scold my head for thinking like that.

I look at Mags on the couch a book folded in her lap and her head bent back with snoring noises pouring from it. Looks like she doesn't like being up early either. Thomps offers me a roll from the table but something tells me I won't be able to stomach food right now.

We step in the elevator and in almost a minute we're already several miles underground, as soon as we step off I can tell we are one of the last pairs. Thomps shoots me a look because of this, like the real Games are all of us attempting to get to the training area first. I mumble a sorry, before we're all gathered together and told about the rules in this area.

This woman explains that we're not allowed to hit anyone, to use time wisely, etcetera and etcetera... out of the corner of my eye I see it, the trident, crafted in a shiny metal. It begs me to pick it up but I force my feet away and head to fire making. Fire and water – not exactly the best of friends.

My breath begins to quicken out of anger as I struggle trying to get it started. The wood splinters in my hands as it rubs out nothing but a mocking stream of smoke. Maybe I should pray for matches when I get in there. A spark flies and another follows evemtually a single flame begins to flare.

"Finally!" The first syllable of this word is rather loud but I tried to silence it by the end, it didn't work too well – the entire practice area looks at me and my pitiful fire and try to stifle laughs. The trainer gives me a heartfelt good job though, at least she's nice. By this point I've had enough of fires and figure it time to move on.

There's a fishing ring set up, I only laugh at that one. Next to it is a sparse hunting and traps area. I spend some time there, learning the very basics. I glance up at Nicky noting that she has been at the knives station the whole day. It's thrilling to watch, if not intimidating, she's very good at the close contact for someone who's just picking it up. At least her skill is taking some of the glares off of me.

I watch as the boy from One starts swinging his sword faster and harder at the trainer every time Nicky makes a kill on the simulator. That boy is a career: someone who has trained for the Hunger Games their whole lives. Usually Districts One, Two, and Four get these titles – I was never trained like some of the victors in the village were, but I do notice how much more strength and usable skills Nicky and I possess than the non-career districts. Usually people in our district get asked to an alliance – but I shouldn't get my hopes up at this point.

The traps are pretty easy once you get a handle on the ropes. It's at this point I move over to the poisonous berries section – four years ago during the 61st Hunger Games, the boys my size had trouble because of a significant lack of food in the arena... that year a girl named Cecelia won, they commented that she probably got it because everyone else starved and she knew how to make a little last. The one who everyone thought would win, this massive brute of an eighteen year old, ahe ate everything in sight and didn't deal too well with starving. One day he got so hungry he began eating everything and ended up purging everything in sight because he ate some berries that starting making his eyes pop out... eventually he died, all from one small berry. Dying from a berry is not the way I wish to go – as far as I know, everything the Gamemakers put in that arena is a trap. Food included.

I try to test my luck, picking up a yellow berry for examination when someone speaks up behind me.

"Are you an idiot? Well, that's probably a dumb question. People like you usually are," she smiles, contented by her insult of me but she still has another reason, as a career she begins sizing me up. With a laugh she moves over to me, "that's obviously poisonous, you'll have purple skin before you realize you can't breathe!"

She sighs and gives me another look through, I can feel her body checking every curve and muscle on me to see if I fit her bill... I decide to return the motion, staring up at her – she seems strong enough and rather sturdy. I'm pretty sure she's from District Two, usually the tributes from Two have black hair but she has this peculiar blond due, it's not terrible. After a minute or so of this examination we both seem to be participating in she starts, "I have a proposition for you. You're a strong boy, eh? Why don't you, and your district partner join up with One and Two?"

It's almost tradition, One, Two, and Four are almost always together, especially when it's a good year. I am about to respond with a resounding "yes" when I notice a young boy at the next section about ready to drop a trident on himself. I quickly pick myself up and run to him, forgetting my conversation with the Career. I catch it in his hands before he throws.

"Hey buddy, you're going to need a smaller one," I point to the rack but can't help but eyeing his yellow skin, my dad sometimes turns yellow when he gets sick and can't drink his liquor. I'm not sure this kid is an alcoholic though.

I lead him to the rack and measure him up, he's really short but I finally find the right one, "Here, try this one."

He picks it up with more ease. The trainer set for this area moves closer, so does the group of careers, but I don't care at this point. I pick up one my size and show him where to hold it. I have to fix his hands multiple times but eventually the grip is pretty solid.

"Alright lift it up." I walk him through all the steps while carefully explaining each one. Then I go into demo mode and extend my arm back, throwing it while exerting the strength in my wrist so the spokes of the trident go right through the eyes of the manikin this pushes the weapon out through the back of its head – completely decapitating it.

The little boy tries to copy but misses by a few meters, it really does take a lot of shoulder strength. I go to fetch his and mine, asking him to follow over. The room is quiet, even the Gamer Makers have stopped their talking and hushed to a whisper. I show him where the best place to pull out the weapon is on the manikin. He does this practice on mine and I keep training with him until the sweat drips far into his eyes making it too hard for him to see.

"Hey, I can teach you how to light your fire better!" He speaks up enthusiastically knowing he's had enough trident throwing, I'm surprised he knows I was trying to make fires – but then I remember my little outburst earlier.

We move back over to the fire area and he tries to teach me the secrets of wood. This is where I learn he's from District 7 – the lumber district. He begins to explain which ones are smoky and which aren't, not that that helps me, all the trees and lumber look the same to me.

He notes my confusion and jokes, "I know, and all the tridents look the same to me."

I look down at this small boy standing before me, "You're alright kid, how old are you?"

"Twelve," he looks at his feet and lets out a scoff, "I know I'm going to die. You're a pretty strong guy though. You'll have lots of people looking out for you."

I push down the ball in my throat. I grab his shoulder and get down to his level, it's weird being the tallest in the room, I want to stop the words about to utter but I can't, "You and me, why don't we go through this together. I can keep you safe and you can keep me safe," I can't help but grin at his big smile, "You'll be my little apprentice, or something."

"Little apprentice that will have to die," Nicky is behind me. I look at her and she looks at me, with both make a face at the other, "Finnick, that's not a good alliance, join us. Us Careers are better together, with people like us."

"But we're not careers," I respond rather bluntly.

She grunts, "Oh, I forgot you were some noble "supermodel," fine then, have fun dying Finnick," And with that she leaves, I am left confused... how could such a coldness have overcome her, we're only one day into this mess and already she's a different girl.

I hold his shoulder, "The Capitol will love the two of us, the sea and the woods... we'll be set!" I attempt reassuring him but I doubt it's working. He continues to look up at me with sunken eyes, emitting this presence of death everywhere he goes.

An announcement blares on some machine telling us we are to wait in the dining hall while individual assessments begin. As commonly known as: Training Scores. It goes by our numbers, so it'll be One, Two, Three, then us. They hand us some water and offer a small table of various foods, mostly breads from our Districts and then a few obscure fruits.

We've already waited two hours and I look over to Nicky for a break from the metal wall before me. She looks back at me, expecting something. We sit like this for a while more, just staring at each other until I begin without caring what the others in the room might hear.

"I'll join you and the Careers."

Her eyes light up with excitement, but there's also some suspicion in there, "On what account? That we don't kill that little boy and tote him around like a prop?"

"Exactly," I nod, she got it on the head, then she mocks me with that weird laugh again.

"Finnick, he's going to die... look at him."

"That doesn't mean it can't be from natural causes, Nicky. If you want my sponsors, which is honestly why I assume you five want me to join, you have to agree not to kill that boy." She looks at me, processing every word and mulling it over in her head.

"Deal."

I sigh with relief, but it is immediately taken away as they call my name back into the training center. I keep breathing deep breaths as an attempt to calm myself.

Alone, I head into the room, my footsteps sound extra loud walking in like this. The Gamemakers are filled with laughter and act busy talking, until they see me... that's when they hush one another. I am filled with a sense of stage fright as they wait for me to begin. I don't automatically go to the trident, why give them what they expect? I instead go to the survival areas and pick up some rope and quickly make a net. I show them, they seem unimpressed, so much for the skill that took me seven years to master. A few of them turn away, bored with my whole being.

At this point I assume it's better to give them what they want instead of nothing and I grab the trident I threw earlier with Grier. I hold the net firmly in my hand, stepping back to the shooting area. I let the moving manikins move side to side at the fastest levels, programming them with a flick of my finger.

Then I do what I've always done to my prey, I throw the net, catching them in their movements and causing them to freeze and struggle – much, to my delight, like real humans. I grip the trident, feeling its sharp spokes for a brief second before attempting anything else. Then, I throw the trident with the same amount of force as I've done before. I stand further away from the target than earlier in training, backing up all the way to the other side by the sword training. But I still hit my target with exact accuracy... it's very rare for me to miss. This is my livelihood, and I suppose it will be the same in the Games.

I run with all my speed to retrieve the weapon and to my surprise find myself fileting the manikin – stuffing seeps out as if blood. I step back retrieving my trident and stand before the Gamemakers, smiling happily. I have shown them my accuracy, my speed, my resourcefulness, and my strength – this is exactly what they wanted to see. I look into their eyes with a happy satisfaction and a frantic breath continuing as I stay still.

"Thank you, Finnick Odair."

I leave smiling. I don't get to hear how Nicky did, not yet. I fall onto my bed in the room and close my eyes, I know it should be hard to sleep but it comes so easily to me. It's as if just being here takes out so much from me, my eyes are constantly straining to absorb the colors, it's hard to understand the accents... and overall it takes a lot of energy to edge out these ideas that any minute in a few days I could very well be dead.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	5. Interviews - V

Mags nudges me from the bed and pulls me out to the others meeting together at the couch in the living area. A large TV is sitting before us, bigger than I've ever seen in a home... I bet the mayor doesn't even have one this big. Thomps tells everyone to quiet down even when no one around is talking but he clicks on the TV and has us glued to it by the anticipation he exudes.

The scores are read rather nonchalantly at first, it's as if we're going through the motions, both from District one have nines. The boy from District Two has a ten while his female partner (the one who was talking to me earlier) scored an eight. It's odd to see the pictures they've chosen to show for us. All four of the base tributes have these menacing grins on the hologram that floats in the corner, and then the kids from District Three show up and have these odd little frowns.

District Three both managed to get sixes, they're not the type to count out but usually their District is pretty sub-par. They can do more with their heads than with their pysical strength – they come up with some of the craziest things sometime while people like me rely on brawn alone.

Then Nicky shows up, her face giving on virtually no emotion in the picture. Her score is read, an eight. We all cheer for her and congratulate the girl who a few days ago was ready to resign to death. Then the moment comes that has been eating at me this whole time, I wait for the moment that I'm sure everyone has been waiting for, not just me – probably all the other tributes even, the entire Capitol, and all of District Four. They show my face, I look kind of dumb in the picture with a big cocky grin and my tan distorting the colors. The duo presenting talks some more over me and offer pointless banter, asking if the God of the Sea can live up to his name. And then they show it. An eleven appears. An eleven! Everyone cheers and I stand up with all of them I am thrilled, this secures my sponsors, or so I am led to assume. Nicky sits there, in somewhat of a daze but a smile on her face nonetheless.

I keep watching the screen, District seven shows and there is Grier – a six. I think it's not so bad for such a small, ailing kid. It makes me wonder what he did to get that score, show them how to light a fire?

Before I even know it a whole day passes of practicing for our interviews and Nicky and I are led to some sitting area before our interviews are to begin with Caesar. We're talking with the host tonight so all of Panem can see us and assess us even more. It's a fun night of spinning our sob stories, saying goodbye to loved ones, and intimidating everyone around us.

Nicky looks at me, she begins in a quiet whisper, "I talked to the other careers. Our deal is only good until the top six, if we're all still there, it's off," she looks around to the others sitting near us though I'm sure they wouldn't dare to listen to people consorting with Careers, "the plan right now is to run straight into the Cornucopia, take the weapons, kill the suckers who come towards us, and camp out for a while until it's time to hunt."

I look into her eyes, trying to tell if I can really trust her, her moods change so often I'm really not sure. Will Grier really be safe?

"We'll need food, you heard the girl from Two. She's calculated the odds and thinks there may be a lack of water and meat in the Cornucopia this year," It was true, the girl – they call her Hale, is incredibly smart. She's calculated the odds of the last Four Hunger Games and has been correct in almost all accounts... almost. You never know what the Gamemakers will throw at you.

My main point isn't really about the lack of food and water. It's more about making sure Grier isn't there in the main bloodshed... I could very well be off killing some other kid while another nips him. Nicky looks at me, trying to read the thoughts that I have clouded in my mind.

"Alright, you run with Grier, us five will kill the easy pickings, you get us water. Finnick I know you can tell time with the sun. If you aren't back by seven the first night the deal is off for good," She refuses to blink as she delivers the next line,"And you _will_ become our number one target."

I don't let any of this conversation phase me, I can't, not yet. I am more relieved than anything that I have secured a good position for Grier and I.

For the first time I look at the TV back stage with live feed of the interviews.

I missed the first two of my new alliance members – the other Careers. I seem to remember them from the dining hall though, cocky and all about looks, at one point it was if they were jealous of _my_ look. Their district is loved by the Capitol since they produce the shiny accessories most rich people adorn themselves with. The boy's name is Daz and the girl's is Opal. They both seem to be the same in skill sets, good with spear, strong, not too much there – easy enough to double cross if it comes to it.

Hale is on right now. That bleach blond hair up in a weird knot she seems to rave about to the host. She talks about all the poisons she loves to play with, her dad was supposedly a chemist for the Peacekeepers in her District, so she's smart _and_ dangerous. I make a mental note not to eat anything prepared by her.

The boy from her district goes on, his name is Ox, which makes sense since he's bigger than my size and I'm pretty tall, I'd say he's worthy of the name from the large animal. He gives off this personality of one that likes to fight, but unlike his partner he's not very bright. It would be easy to trick him and then get him in a net. Even a shark comes in with right rope.

I lay back as they introduce Jen, a pretty girl from Three, she talks about how she is more smart than strong (like most do from Three), she almost has a twinge of hopelessness in her voice. But she seems harmless... most of these tributes seem harmless to me, which makes me feel bad. If they were all cocky and strong competitors I think it would be much easier to flick a knife at them, but most of these kids are just that – kids. I look at the screen and try to figure out who they're talking with next.

They call Nicky up and Caesar introduces her with a smile. He must be older then Mags, because I swear the man was there for HER interview, but he keeps young with whatever special medicine the Capitol makes to reverse aging. I watch her interview intently, already the scared sixteen year old of the train has been erased and replaced by a bloodthirsty girl.

"And what do you think about your district partner?" Caesar asks in a comical way. "Was he as dreamy as they say back in the District?" The crowd laughs as Caesar plays up his faces.

Her eyes narrow, "Isn't this interview supposed to be about me?" Caesar is taken aback by her directness.

"Well, you can't blame us for asking! He certainty caused quite a... splash! In the opening ceremonies!" The crowd bursts with laughter. Nicky rolls her eyes. I can't tell what she's playing for? She's already lost likable. Is she trying for arrogant or mystery? To me, she seems to be coming off as annoying.

"Are there troubles with you two? He didn't break your heart did he?" He is egging her on, to say something about a fight or the alliance. Caesar is know to try and make all of us look good and he really needs to do some damage control for her right now.

I see her eyes twinge, she is going to play with the audience, "Oh Caesar. Of course, Finn was always a popular little puppy back in the town. All the girls loved him. But he does go around breaking hearts, and it's so sad, I would hope a heartbroken girl doesn't go crazy and kill him in the arena!" The last sentence is said maliciously as Nicky tries to become that "heartbroken" girl.

"I like your spunk girlie," Caesar giggles with her. "I guess we will all see!"

The crowd claps for her. Still trying to make her out into something. She didn't play it well so now I will have to do better. As soon as I hear my name uttered, I hear the Capitol roar with applause.

I step up onto the stage. I am wearing a very revealing button down shirt, with little shells hanging from my ears, and slick black pants, Noqall was right, they love it. Caesar is wearing his hair, the most dominant feature on his plastic body, as a mixture of green and blue. He directs me to a chair by him and kicks up his legs, one over the other.

"Well, I just thought the King of the Sea came in here to wash me away! How are you doing Finnick?" His mouth is smiling with bleach white teeth.

I look at the millions of faces in front of me. _Be their lover Finnick_, it's all I say to myself.

"Doing?" I smile in a cocky way trying to mirror other charismatic tributes, "Come on Caesar. You're a man, you know what it's like... the pretty ladies here – I am in heaven!" The crowd swoons.

"Well, well. You are quite the ladies man now, aren't you? Don't go around toying with all our hearts now!" _Yea, that's not what I will do at all_. It's like a math problem, trying to figure out the exact answer of what to say next that will get them all in a love trance. Caesar takes the lead, "What about, some questions? Are you aware that your District Partner, Nicky, seems just _heartbroken_ over you?"

I think seriously for a few moments, pondering, "I've never seen her before... well, until now. She's looks like she's always been a nice girl, but I'm fourteen and she's sixteen, we don't really get that much opportunity to see one another. I do wish her the best of luck, though, any win from District Four will be a good one."

"But you think you're going to win, right?"

"Of course."

"You know, the question on everyone's mind right now: do you have a girl waiting out by the sea back home? Hoping her little fisherman will come home?"

I think of the girl on the beach, she was just a friend. Nana Koa, just a mother. Sedna. Sedna, my baby sister, she's the only one who really does need me. My parents are messes, and I'm the only stable person in her life, and really who knows how much longer Nana Koa has on this Earth?

"I do," I say this quicker than I think through it and the crowd cries, thinking I am no longer a bachelor, I quickly correct them, "But, no, it's a different type of love, Caesar. I have to win these games, so I can go back home and be there for my baby sister."

Caesar holds his chest as if holding back tears, "Such a romantic young man. Oh, we are all rooting for you Finnick!" The crowd jolts back to life with cheers.

"I've never actually had a girlfriend before at all. But I would say I am a pretty," I hold the word on my tongue and look into the audiences' eyes and purr the rest of my sentence, "convincing man... so it'd be nice to come back here and make some new _friends_," I say it almost like a suggestive whisper. They go wild, screaming and crying tears of joy. Caesar's eyes widen and he nods at me with a certain sense of approval.

"Finnick, unfortunately our time is up. If I could pay to have you for the whole night I would, but a man like you needs his rest to win these Games. Best of luck Finnick Odair!" The crowd is chanting my name, begging me not to leave the stage. I give them a wave, and decide to flex my arms which puts them over the edge. I find a camera, look right into it and blow it a kiss, _then_ I walk off.

Walking back into the waiting room is like having a wave of relief wash over you... it's over, and they made it seem like they loved me. I hope it plays well, I really do. One part of that interview wasn't fake. I really do want to make it back to Sedna.

I sit and watch Grier's interview, fairly quick and quiet. I think he'd rather slip off before being noticed. But this is where he drops the bomb, where we all learn he is very sick. Probably not good for him to mention this but it does get the crowd emotional. I grab him as he comes off the stage, this is the last night before the games begin.

"Listen to me," his face appears scared and I lighten my grip, "When you are placed in that arena, don't move – last year a girl stepped off before zero and was blown up, that can't happen. Wait on your pedestal and I will run to you and we'll head off in search of food together, we're teamed up with districts One and Two right now. It'll work, no one will noticed you if you just stand there, they'll all run to the Cornucopia – we're going to get out of there," I look at him trying to take it all in, "Got it?"

"You got us in with the careers? What did you have to do to get them to say yes?"

"Doesn't matter, do you understand?" He nods and I tousle his hair with a sigh or relief.

Mags comes over to Nicky and me after the interviews. Thomps is sad this is our last meeting, he's really grown with Nicky – less so with me. He does mention over and over, how sexy I was, though, and how I should keep it up. Mags nods, and I know what I have to do, the character I must play. I watch Nicky throughout the night, neither of us say much. She doesn't touch her food. I know she's playing a character just as much as I am.

And before I know it I am taken off the feather mattress in the Capitol and placed with my prep team again. But we just sit there. There's nothing that's needed with me, I start small talk with all of them, asking what they think the arena will be, who seems the strongest, etc. They don't know anything of huge importance and before I know it they're crying as they hug me. Noqall comes up to me and shows me into an outfit that looks like something a king underwater should wear.

"I am saving it for you. For when you come back as our victor," She winks at me.

I wave as the pod lifts me up and try to put on my best smile, though my insides are turning it to a grimace.

* * *

><p><strong>Don't forget to leave a comment if you found anything you liked or disliked! :)<strong>


	6. The 65th Hunger Games (part one)

It's cold and rather windy when the pedestal finally lets me out to the light. The sun shines in my eyes, and I can barely make out the other tributes coming up to the grounds as well. My eyes stray from me and try to take in the arena landscape I've never once experienced before in my life – large mountains\ sprinkled with tall, dark green trees and branches that point out in every direction.

I look for a beach or a sign of relief on the landscape that hints of water but find none. This is a deciduous arena, not warm and sandy like the home I grew up in, everything is strange and foreign... but then I see it. A familiar mark planted in the middle of the terrain, the golden Cornucopia. I know it by heart, it's the sign of every game that arms the tributes with the vast array of weapons it hides deep inside. The strongest weapons will be there, but that's what _they_ want, the Gamemakers hope you enter – that you hasitly run in and try to grab something, knowing full well the Careers will get there first and slaughter you.

I look for Grier around the tail bend of the large mass of gold and lock onto him. And then I see it – a trident. They put that there just for me... I should most likely grab it. If Nicky doesn't hide it from me the others will knowing full well my skill with its three spokes. But I can't get it in time will I? If I go for it I'll get dragged in the Bloodbath that is the first five minutes of the games and not reach Grier in time to get out of there.

_Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six..._

I should go for it... no... no I shouldn't. But I have to...

_Five. Four. Three. Two. One..._

A trumpet blares signaling the start of the games, my heart bleeds from my chest as its pounding ruptures through my body. I run, the fastest I ever have in my entire life... everything is real now. I grab little things on my way, no harm in picking out my own things.

I manage a rope and a knife and don't dare to venture for more. None of these objects will take extra time and I certainly don't slow down by Grier either. I pull him up on my shoulder and run without a look behind me. Figures of black dash into the dense woods as well, but none of us take interest of one another. With the young boy on my shoulders, secure and safe, I head into the woods, towards the large mountain that hangs over the arena, perhaps I can get a better view from up there. I run, it's uphill and taking a toll on my legs but I keep my pace... there's no way to stop now.

I hear Grier crying.

"What's wrong?" He sniffles to calm himself, and I can't afford to slow down so I prod again, "Is anyone following us?"

"No, but there's lots of bodies. Someone almost got me before you came," His voice cracks and my heart almost breaks for it. For some reason he reminds me of myself, maybe that's why I was first attracted to him. He's gentle and open with his emotions, though others try to get him to hide them. We need to stay focused, though, both of us.

"Grier... please quiet down. Was it a career?"

"No."

Good, so the alliance is still on, "Alright, keep an eye out for water. This is your territory, not mine. I've only ever seen these kinds of trees on the television."

I can feel his nod, with the silent acknowledgment my memory brings up a picture of Mags. She's going to be watching these games full time – because from here on out we'll all be on camera, 24/7 with people watching and calculating our every move... it's strange to think about. I trust Mags though, her smiles are genuine like Nana Koa's, I know she'll keep me safe.

After what I presume to be three hours I slow my pace. By this point we're nearing the base of the mountain – a spot where we can memorize the map in case we ever get into trouble. As soon as I sit down I hear the cannons and begin to count. One, two, six, eight, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen. And then its silent without even noticing I let out a sigh of relief. Fourteen already gone... it's actually a pretty big number for the Bloodbath meaning the Careers this year are fairly lethal. I'm glad Greier left when he did, no one his age should need to see things like that.

Looking at the sun, I figure we have four hours to get the water I promised Nicky and head back before the deal is called off. There's something scary about that death toll number though, knowing two of the ten are me and Grier and all bets are off at six.

I can almost see the Gamemakers pissing themselves with excitement because of everything at stake right now. Eventually we get near a crevice high enough in the mountain and I can pick out a river not far from my right, it looks deep though because of the darker shade (or maybe it's just the type of water here), I also notice a lip in the area where the water branches off and connects into a small pond by the Cornucopia, practically giving our alliance everything we need.

The Careers, there are the two from One, the two from Two and Nicky – I know that for sure. But whether one of them died I don't. Five careers, Grier and I, and three others. Not the easiest fight. I have an odd, ominous feeling we'll be breaking off from our alliance before we know it.

I allow myself one more moment of rest, and for the first time I am struck with the beauty of the arena. I've never seen anything like it before so close. Even the air is different, it's cold and energizing with salt is lacking in its taste. Grier seems to love it.

"My house back in Seven is in a place like this," he coughs as he says this, hopefully it's just from the altitude because it's making me a bit woozy right now as well. I take a moment and notice the yellow nature of his skin looks worse then before. He catches me staring, "I'm sick... I know, but being in the hospital doesn't excuse you from a Reaping," he chuckles, "I should be dead right now, you know, I should be in my mother's arms in a coffin with my name stamped to it. But I promised myself I would help you, I would try and see it you were made a victor."

I want to say something in reply but find my voice dry and unable to speak. Instead his lip turns and he begins again.

"We should go and give the others the information about the map. Maybe we can make something up, like falling rocks, rabid animals, anything to scare them away, really," he begins to get up, but looks ready to retch his stomach's contents instead. I put my hand on him to help with support but he pushes me off, "I'm fine, Finnick, we can't waste time. Come on."

He starts leading to the lake, and I follow closely behind him to catch him if he falls, every now and again he slips on the unforgiving rocky terrain. I stop him for a moment, knowing full well he needs a break but won't ask for it. He looks at a bound of rope I have in my hand,something I picked up instinctively at the Cornucopia.

"That's good for you, you know... we all know what good knots you can make. My District partner said at our final meal yesterday that you were pretty cute tying them the other day," I laugh with him, I never once took notice of his partner but I would never call him a liar.

I pull the conversation back to the Games, "We have time, I think we should look for protection in this area in case we need to run.

"_Protection_," he says the word like it's foreign, "from the others or the elements?"

"Both."

We scale down the mountain, to my surprise it's much harder to get down then go up, but I assume adrenaline was pushing me before. The picture of the arena keeps replaying in my head, I have to memorize it now.

Mountains encase everything in a circle. They've used designs similar to this, actually this is pretty standard. A small, but unassumingly deep river encircles the mountains and meets up by the Cornucopia, it's not a very large area though. The sun may also raise a threat eventually, it beats down on you relentlessly.

"Damn, I wish I had some sun glasses in this heat, it's hard to see," I feel the sweat rolling down from my brow as I push my hair back. There's a slight noise on the ground behind us. A parachute.

"Woah! We're not even five hours into the games yet!" Grier is staring in shock as he heads over to retrieve the present. I look at it and nudge to Grier to open it. Why shouldn't he get to open a few presents before the worst of it all happens?

He happily rips open the lid and finds sunglasses sitting inside. I can't help but take it as a joke and Grier only looks up at me with a smile of admiration.

"I can't believe that. Finnick Odair opens his mouth and the Capitol just abides. Incredible."

"You want to wear them?" I ask him holding them out. He shakes his head, they're my present, not his, he says.

We continue walking down, my footing no much more exact as I scale down. Then I hear a familiar sound. Raging water. With probably the goofiest grin my face can make I run down to it, to the water. I sink to my knees in the muddiness and splash the familiar bit of nature onto my face.

Grier looks down at me, with a strange cocked eyebrow, "Well, I guess we know what District Four appreciates most." It finally gets him though when he finally places his fingers into its heavy stream.

I look over across the river to what seems to be a dam, logs blocking some of the water's entry. Several tall leafy foliage sprout from the wood, "Hey, Grier," I point to the tall swaying grass, "what are those?"

"Cat tails. They're pretty long and sturdy for the most part."

Perfect. I swim, at first taking a moment to adjust to the rapids. It feels weird getting used to it, every time the water splashes into my eyes I expect it to sting, but it doesn't. And it's odd to say that I miss it... because that would be another element of home missing from me. I can only picture myself on camera right now, which I shouldn't have to do since I know I will be on every screen.

Just picture it, Capitol ladies fawning over themselves as my shirt absorbs water and sticks to my skin, forming muscles that appear to be much bigger than they really are. I've never thought of myself as being a favorite, but you can't expect a fourteen year old boy to go through all of this hearing the compliments and not taking them to heart. I grab the cat tails and immediately begin weaving them into a basket right where I float. It's only after I have the starting of one that I notice Grier staring at me from across the river.

"I can't swim," He shouts out over the water.

I finish the basket and head back over to him, placing him on my shoulders and attempting to wade through the water this time. It splashes onto my body in a hard manner, and I feel something poking the bottom of my feet like sharp glass.

When we get out of the cool water I have Grier examine them.

"They put glass in there didn't they?" I roll my eyes as I try to not to bite into the pain, the Gamemakers probably think they're pretty funny with that little trick. I watch Grier take another look and turn around instead to throw up.

"Grier! Are you okay?" At first I assume this is because he's sick, but upon further investigation I finally pick out the hideous little creatures eating away at my feet. My stomach starts to whine as I observe the fat green and purple slugs biting into my toes with large fangs. Out of shock I take the knife I grabbed earlier and try scraping them off, only to have Grier grab my hand and stop me from fileting my own feet.

"Calm down Finnick!" I try to slow my breathing but it's so daunting to have these plump little slugs, the kinds that sometimes stick to boats, sucking on my toes. Only they're not sucking, they're biting. I observe as one falls off without me touching it, it leaves a large purple welt on the bottom of my foot.

I try to stand up, to maybe pop it as the welt fills heavy with pus. The attempted weight on my foot only leaves it in excruciating pain, unbeknownst to me the foot starts twitching and I forces me to sit down once more.

"Does it hurt?" Grier asks, horrified by the slugs' large teeth as they push their weird venom into my feet.

"Yes it hurts!" I snap and Grier steps back. I immediately regret talking to him like that, "I'm sorry, this isn't the easiest thing to be dealing with though."

Grier looks at the slugs as they slink back to the water leaving my feet oozing with large welts and globs of punctured pus. I know I can't walk on these, Grier starts to pace. Then without saying a word, only giving me direct eye contact he takes the knife and slices my shirt off in a way that lets my abs air out. I try to make my own grimaces while holding my sexy stature to play along with the act we're putting up.

Just like that I watch as the little silver parachute flies down into my lap.

Grier smiles, "You will want for nothing," he opens it for me and pulls out a pair of tweezers, bandages and a tube of some paste. His eyes light up at the sight of so many things, "And they certainly didn't spare any expense!"

He inspects my feet, poking here and there, certain movements make my want to yell out and bite my lip while others just force me to cringe. He figures out what I knew as soon as I saw the tweezers. He pinches them together and squeezes the smallest purple blister together letting a pinkish pus oozes out. He goes over to the bushes to throw up again, and I don't blame him, I refuse to look myself but I can feel every little bit of it.

"You can stop when you need to," I pipe up feeling bad he's now let his belly empty, but he walks back over.

"You saved my life, Finnick. You have these on your feet because of me and I am going to help you," It's nice to hear, but I was hoping we might take a long pause in between each extraction, this pain is leveling on excruciating.

He digs around the holes with the tweezers finally he pulls out a long sharp tooth left by the weird slugs.

"How many bumps are there?"

He counts – 12. I want to bang my head on the tree, butI can't do that, "Oh god," I whisper to myself hoping it will all end soon, but tears start to well up and even when I try to fight them they still inch closer and closer.

We listen to another parachute fly down and I fear it's for another tribute that happens to be near us, but no, it's for me again. I look at it confusedly – I already have the medicine, what more could this be? Grier takes a break from working on the third welt to open it. A small jar of pills that I recognize as painkillers – my father takes them on the ship if we ever run out of alcohol. I take three, I am a big guy after all... Instantly I feel better.

Grier gets to the last one just as the sun has begun thinking about setting itself into the cliffs. He rubs a soothing, white medicine onto my feet in a massaging motion and finally finishes it up by wrapping one of the bandages to it.

I stand up, expecting to shout in pain, but find my feet almost like how they were. Grier whispers to me a plan for our return: that I should act more hurt than I really am when we begin to approach the Cornucopia again. The blood stained into the grass makes me queasy as I stagger myself, trying to find balance once more.

I had almost forgotten about the water – our real mission – luckily Grier brings it up from behind me... I was pretty intent on just making it back on time, but I'm glad he remembered.

After a half hour in the woods of following the branching stream we eventually find our way back only to be greeted by four very relaxed Careers. Ox, Nicky, Opal, and Hale. I guess the District One male was killed in the battle – I assume this from not only his absence but also Opal's wet eyes.

"Look who finally showed up," This is my first time having an encounter with Ox, the tall boy has a darker tone around him and a thick jawline that looks like it was chiseled out of rock. I nod to him as Grier brings up the water. His eyes drift down to my feet, "What's with your feet fish boy?"

I look at my bandages and figure it better not to explain all the gifts I've been granted, instead I sit down and begin to draw up the map from the best of my memory. A stick lays next to me and I grab it, pointing to the stream, "here, this part of the river has large shards of glass that you should be wary not to step on!"

Ox smiles figuring out in that big head of his that I must have already made this mistake – he's satisfied.

"Did you find fish?" I look at him with a blank expression for a moment before whipping it away – I had forgotten about that. I go on to tell them all that the rivers seem empty, and I because of my injuries causing me to stumble through the woods so loudly I am sure I scared anything else off. I take off my sweaty and ripped shirt, much to Hale's amusement.

The smart girl giggles, "Looking good there, Four," I give her a cheeky grin, she's pretty cute when she smiles.

Nicky steps between us, "Good job with the water. You can pile your supplies over there," she points to where the supplies have been intricately organized... most likely by Hale.

My eyes sift over towards the weapons, searching for the trident I've prayed for.

"It's not there Finnick, a seventeen year old tank came in and took it, we got him down and killed him, but the hovercraft took it away with him..." I look in her eyes. I feel like she is lying... that she probably grabbed the trident and stuck it into somebody, but I pretend like this answer disappoints but suffices. She begins again, "Alright, let's plan for tomorrow. We can sleep now, and go hunting for the rest tomorrow? I'm pretty sure we're all worn out by now." I wonder who declared her leader.

I decide to add nothing to the pile until Nicky brings it up again. This time I am forced to show her what I have: the medicine, a knife, the rope, tweezers, sun glasses, painkillers... not things you typically pick up on the outer ring of the Cornucopia.

"Picked 'em off a dead tribute." Grier peeps out from eating his apple. I look at Ox, wiping his sword down with some bloody shirt, three times too small for him – he keeps a keen eye on me and I know why... I was asked to this group because they expect Sponsor gifts. Usually my training score would leave me with no one, but I possess something else that they don't. I'm likable.

I lay on the ground and quickly begin to feel cold. Grier comes over and lays by me too, we're near the fire but it does so little. For some reason I feel like I am ship-wrecked, there are no more waves... everything turns to sand... and the sand builds up to choke me.

I wake up.

My eyes dart around but only find the dimming fire, every other face appears to be at some form of ease, I take it as a fair enough time to stand up and walk around the front of the Cornucopia. The air is freezing at this time of night... the sky reveals it must be nearing one in the morning. Now more than ever I wish I had that shirt still.

I hear the anthem play and look up to the sky as the stars disappear, they are then replaced by a show of dead faces. Fourteen of them, meaning nine more to go. The sky fades and turns black with every tribute's face and their district number, every time a new face shows the world lights up again.

The first and last days are always the bloodiest. When the stars finally reappear I look out to them searching for my familiar faces and figures dancing among them, but they're all in weird positions and I know the Gamemakers are only projecting them out there. None of them are real. A cold gust of wind rolls by, and my skin shivers before it starts blistering.

I do my best to stretch out my body, letting my long legs kick up and my toned arms wrap around my head. It doesn't actually feel bad but it gets me what I want. A sleeping bag. Not just a regular one, this one comes straight from the Capitol giving it a fluffy texture of warmth. I give my wink to the camera (something that is beginning to feel like a signature of mine) and make my way back inside the darkening cavern.

I try to hide the present under my body, even though this is pointless, the others look at the bag with lust, I can see their eyes through what faint light we still have. I pretend to make a few noises out of pain, as if my feet are still hurting. I walk with a limp back over to Grier, knowing they can still see me. Quietly I lay back down, encasing his and mine's bodies in the cocoon of warmth.

At, what has to be around three, I hear the whispering, it's very faint, but after years of trying to comprehend commands on a boat in danger of toppling into the ocean in the rage of a storm, it's not too hard for me to make out whispering people in the stillness of night.

"Kill him now Ox," A girl's voice, Opal or Hale's – not Nicky's – whines.

"And the kid?" He grunts, not even attempting to be as quiet as the girl.

"Of course, he'll die on his own. But just look at Mr. Beautiful over there. How many gifts has he already gotten?"

"Might make sense to keep him around if he's been so blessed." That is Nicky. She's sticking up for me, in an odd way though, that almost seems more sinister than the others, "He can get us anything we want."

I can feel the cold stares she's receiving, but I continue to pretend sleeping. Grier's breathing is scary next to me, beginning for a moment and then stopping for a good few seconds only to be taken in again. The next morning I know what to do.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	7. The 65th Hunger Games (part two)

**Another long one! Prepare yo'selves!**

* * *

><p>I wake around five, missing out on sleep during the night so as to wake at this exact moment. I shake Grier with only a poke and cover his mouth before he can make a sound as loud as a breath. He nods, understanding immediately.<p>

He takes my hand and shuffles onto my shoulder and I carefully step over Ox, Hale, Opal... I slowly begin to move over Nicky when she grabs my ankle – right where a slug had got it. In it's sore and tender state I want to scream but stifle it. She looks at me with no words, we can see each other clearly now in the daybreak.

She lets go and I quickly take off from there. I hadn't even thought about taking some of their supplies, but some other genius did... the little boy on my shoulder chews away at a bag of rabbit legs and apples. I let go of one of his legs to pat him on the back, hoping he leaves some for me. The woods are even more remarkable at dawn. Air that once again makes you feel alive. I hear my lady call to me through short whispers and I know we're close to the water.

I look at Grier and he looks at me, he comes off of my shoulders and awaits my instruction.

"You know they'll be after us," I nod off into the distance where we had come... for some reason I think Nicky is going to wake up just as shocked as the rest of them. She had that look about her.

"Well, Should we cross it?" I look down at him, checking for any new signs of death, "I can fish fine from here and this way we have the trees," He looks at me in disbelief... comparing my body size with the small branches and mentally chastising me, "What?" I laugh. "You don't think I could get up in a tree?"

"It's actually smarter for us to stay near here, anyways," he looks at the water and feels a few rocks. One has a red mark I have never noticed before, "I marked it earlier when we came down from the mountain, there are signs of a waterfall nearby. If we go to the cave behind it, the water will hide any smoke from a fire... and gauging by the tributes left not many will be familiar with waterfalls."

I let him do his thing that involves stepping in mud and feeling leaves in order to figure out where this waterfall lives. I on the other hand start unintentionally knotting our rope. It's a weird habit I have when things encompass my mind.

"Finnick!" He calls over after ten minutes. I look up from the rope, ensnared with millions of complicated knots turning it into the beginnings of a net.

"What?" I look down feeling he is upset I knotted our rope, "I know how to remove them."

"No," he snickers at my confused mug, "that's fine, it's just I know which way to go," he points to the tallest mountain, about two miles to our left. A waterfall is supposedly over there. He once again berates me for suggesting I carry him and is instead determined to walk right on the bank between the slugs. I look at his face though, it's going to be impossible for him to walk two miles.

"Should I carry you?" I offer once more. He receives the offer with anger and refuses at first but as the path wears on he eventually nods. I lift him up and have him on my back keeping an eye out as I jog near the edge of the water, this way no foot prints are left... or at the very least are washed away into the mud.

"How are your feet?" He asks in a sarcastic manner, I just laugh in response. Honestly they're fine now, but I am ready to milk my never-ending strength a bit more for the camera. It takes us almost the entire day, in my conditions to reach this new camp. Darkness now threatens to encase the arena.

I look at this 'waterfall' and once again, like everything I've been exposed to in these Games so far, I've never seen anything like it before. It's insane, splashing heavy buckets of water onto the rocks, creating a thick, heavy mist. I let Grier step down and his face is beaming.

"Looks like home enough to me, right?" I smile and give him a slap on the back something we do in Four when congratulations are in order, "Good work!"

Given the opportunity I let the cold water splash down on me, I am covered in sweat and dirt from the day's journey. Grier falls into the water as well, I'm not sure if it's the safest thing due to his condition, but I don't stop it. The kid was right though, there is a small cave behind the water that hides us really well. He goes to gather some sticks as I fall to the ground and rest, from the way I've positioned myself I can watch him as he sets the wood down into a circle. Like a mother almost he lifts my head and places a bushel of leaves underneath it.

After my pause of rest I go out and to my enjoyment find the tall grass I made a basket out of earlier, I feel silly collecting it, like some of the younger girls of my school picking flowers. Several fish gather at the mouth of the water fall, "You're mine," I whisper to them as if the words I deliver are sweet nothings and I lick my lips. They open their mouths and close them making little pops with their big fish lips, begging to be fed. I come back under the water and help Grier sit down, he's out of breath after setting things up, and I have to say it does look semi-homey in the cave – the constant sound of water helps as well.

My only reservations about this spot extinguish as I check to see whether or not the fire is visible from the other side. Nothing, not even a glow.

We're finally settled and I begin to quickly finish weaving a basket so that it can hold water, once ready I place a rock underneath the basket and begin heating the water from the fire. As we sit to share an apple we hear the anthem begin to blare and peak out from behind the water.

I'm surprised we heard it with the water so loud. I hadn't heard a cannon today, but there's one face up there. Grier's district partner – like before, they don't show how the others died or who killed them, but our kill list does matter, more people will bet on you the more kills you have. So, I add it up in my head again, four careers, us, and that leaves three others I don't know. I think about Nicky, but push her out of my thoughts, she's still alive.

I step into the water, pleased the stars are back, Grier looks at me with confused brows as I strip down to the nude.

"Are you washing?" He asks. I give him a dorky smile as I try not to laugh.

"Of course not, I'm fishing," I reach in the water wiggling my fingers so the fish come towards me where I can grab them. I make sure to throw some provocative poses in there as well, knowing the cameras are watching me with no clothes are on – I'd rather they see me in the flesh than covered with blood.

I collect three vibrantly red fish. I've never seen this type before but Grier claims they're Salmon (a fish that must be freshwater and collected in the mainland away from where I live), popular with bears in the wild. Another creature I've never heard of, he explains them to me as I remove the boiled water and clean the salmon. Apparently they're furry animals with big teeth and elongated faces. I tease him that he's making up stories but he swears it's the truth.

By the time our stories are finished the salmon is ready and even my stomach is growling.

"If only we had some bread to go with this meal!" I moan out suggestively with a knowing wink to Grier. And there it is, the clink outside, Grier brings in the bread... our system is well understood now.

The bread is green and salty – I know instantly it's from my district. Out of respect I look up to the ceiling of the cave, assuming a camera is watching, and take my right pinky finger and wiggle it as thanks to my district.

"What is that?" Grier looks at me like I have the pox as I wiggle my pinky.

"It's how we say thanks in district four. You're eating our bread you know."

Grier sticks his tongue out childishly, "I _thought_ it tasted like fish!" We both laugh and I'm glad he has this opportunity with me. He attempts to make the gesture as well. We are lucky to have the luxury of letting the fire going, since no one can possibly know we're here. He lays on the leaves, and I watch him shivering. It's very cold and damp in the cave, even with the fire burning and sleeping bag wrapped around us.

I pull him close to my body for my warmth. It's easy for me to fall asleep because so far the Games have gone very well. I know the minute I let this thought cross my mind that I am wrong. That something else will now be thrown at me. But when I wake the next day I find everything ordinary. No intruders, no animals, our fire hasn't even burned us to death. Good night if you ask me.

The next day is uneventful. No cannons, no crazy unimaginable thing. I love it, but this is right around the time we all recognize that the Gamemakers will be trying to speed it up – something tells me they're itching to have me back in the Capitol as a victor, and it's not just the presents I'm getting. It's this arena, the way people fell at me feet when we first met. They want me. This gets me wondering how often I've been on the screen by now, I would guess a lot. I try with all I can to give them some fleshy and erotic shots of my body as the day drawls on. I've actually come to the point where I don't feel like wearing clothes anymore and hopefully it's enough footage to tide the Capitol over for at least one more day.

It's funny, even as a kid I always hated clothes... I remember the day my mother tried to catch my naked rear end as I attempted a run through the town with nothing but a kid's sized trident and my five year old eel flopping about. A smile purses my lips as I reminisce about that life, no painful memories, no worrying about what people thought of me. This is broken by Grier coughing back inside the cave, reality returns. I'm out fishing again and I keep listening for him, the cough is much hoarser and I know he's gotten worse.

I bring the catches in and fry them, gathering the bread I never asked for that has landed outside our cave. I sit him up and feed him, his cheeks are sunken in even though I've been feeding him, his pupils are large, his body is cold as I try to get him to continue moving, and his lips are turning a watery blue. I know death is near for him. I look up, to nothing in particular, all I want is to let this boy die peacefully in my arms. Sending a dying kid into a battle like this is despicable.

"You want to eat Grier?" I ask this as I try to sit him up. Upon my request he attempts to swallow tiny bits of fish but ultimately fails.

"Finnick, no, you should eat it. Get your strength up, please..." I look in his eyes as he begins to cry. I grab his head and hold it close to my chest, I try to get him to calm down, even while knowing this will be our last night together. _Peacefully_. Please, _let him go peacefully_.

A slosh of feet coming through the cave arouses me, I grab the knife still wet with fish guts as I await the intruder. I recognize her instantly. It's the girl from Three, the depressed one, Jen. Why she resonates with me I am unsure, but she does and I stare into the face I am about to kill.

She chokes out a scream as she sees me holding my knife, only quieting it when she sees Grier.

Her body shakes from being cold and injured as she steps closer, she wears nothing, not even a jacket... bits of fabric hang from her body where it is revealed she has cuts that bleed profusely from the abdomen.

I examine each one, how each are cuts and gashes that seem random and spastic. No one trying to take their time with her, which makes me think it wasn't a Career that got her. I look at her soaked, red body and her hysterical, wet face. It pleases me to know there must now be a trail of blood leading straight up into our cave – so much for this plan of staying here for as long as it lasts. She looks at our water with panted breaths, I am still holding my knife as I try to stand up without waking Grier. His breathing has slowed and she inches closer.

"Help me," tears fall from her eyes. She runs to me with her hands grasping for something. I could do it – stab her right now. _But I can't_. For some unknown reason, even to myself, I sit her down and give her a portion of the fish and a tiny gulp of our water. I look at those cuts once more. There's no point in bandaging her. She looks at me assessing her damage and I now realize I get to watch two children head into the afterlife under my care.

"I know I am a mess... I-I didn't want to die alone though. T-hank you for the f-fish... you truly are a decent human, unlike _them_. I hope you win for everything you've done, helping that boy... h-he doesn't have much time left either, you know. I heard what sickness he has and he'll be dead soon as well," Her voice chokes out into a large wail and I throw my hand over her mouth looking around, still nervous of whatever attacked her.

I start to get annoyed, hearing her talk about Grier like that and giving away our spot with her failure. It helps, to lie to myself that she's wrong – even though everyone in all of Panem know that Grier will be dead tonight. I don't want to fully believe it though. _Not yet_.

"Why are you here? If I agree to let you die in peace what can you give me?" I stare into her eyes in the flicker of the fire, she may be checked out but not me. She holds it out to me, a tiny box of matches then she begins to weep once more. This time I let her. I even ponder pulling her close to me but I don't know her, and I can't let any more emotions get involved when I'm so close to winning these Games.

"Which tribute did this to you?" I ask, she has to be able to offer me more than just matches... she must know something. I look at the spots that are cut, all pin pointed towards major organs and yet so spastic and messy, it continues to baffle me.

"Not tributes. Large furry mountain creatures, they come down and eat fish, but if they see you they'll eat you too. They're not like real animals, they're much more deadly – like an animal that's instincts are intensified," I wonder if they are like the bears that Grier has mentioned.

"How did you escape?"

"I managed to not get eaten by whatever is in that river, or get taken away by it. That's how. The creatures don't dare pass through there," I take note of this. The girl leans over and coughs blood on the floor but her voice is much calmer, "They love the blood," she coughs once more, "They want you to be in pain. But your fire and food was warm, and I have now outsmarted them. I am not very bad off thanks to you," her tears still fall but her face is calm as she lays down, "I hope _you_ win..."

Her eyes stay glassed over and looking dead into the fire. I know she's dead when I hear the cannon. A hovercraft will come to collect the body and I'd rather savor whatever I can from the secrecy of this location. I take the matches and throw her over my shoulder when I see a torch light up, it's coming towards the waterfall. I throw the body down, they've tracked the blood... they're here for revenge.

I run in and grab Grier shaking him awake while trying to stay as relaxed as I can. His little eyes waking up, just barely. I hear the swift vibrations of a flying arrow as it breaks through the watery wall. I grab our pack and my knife as I run out along the water. The voices are clear, and it petrifies me to the core – everything is now real – the careers are here and they want me dead.

They catch me in the light and I can here them, "We've found him!"

I see Nicky's bronze skin through the flashlight she holds to spot me. Then I hear the growling, an internal noise that can come from no human being. A creature, no man, jumps out in front of me and grazes my arm as I jump back. I let out a terrified scream, one only a young man staring in the face of death can make. It misses my throat by inches and the very life that keeps me alive is called into question.

My running continues, it is the only power I have over these beasts... more of the creatures come after me, the Careers themselves begin to retreat as the large furry creatures pursue them as well. This is a free for all, this is the calm before the finale.

The creatures dodge in from everywhere, from the ground, around corners, right where I'm about to step and outrun them they have my moves already anticipated and I can no longer act upon it. I hear a female scream from one of the careers, and then a cannon. The menacing sounds of their gnawing on flesh sounds in my ears and my arms shake causing me to slip up. I finally reach the bank of the raging river, I try to hold Grier steady as I step in. The Careers have met up at my location as well.

I feel a large string of liquid drip off of my forehead and into my eye making it burn. Did they shoot me? Was I clawed? No, this is from Grier. I pull him down and see his chest heaving with blood, but how? Then I notice the knife as if the Gamemakers demanded light from the moon in this instance to illuminate the death around us. Nicky is the only career with knives... she threw it. I pull the knife out and throw it at an oncoming fur creature, letting it screech and fall to the ground as the blade pierces it through the eye.

Grier heaves,"They're bears Finnick, but not normal, I've never seen one act like this... You can't cross the river with me," He coughs blood onto my chest and I try to ignore his next few words, "Leave me here and get to the other side. If the careers aren't at the Cornucopia right now, you can try to find the trident..."

This thought arouses me even though I know it's not here, it's gone from this game. I hold Grier close, this time between us seems like hours, when it's only seconds. I kiss his forehead before plugging his mouth and nose. The air leaves his body and this is the easiest way for him to die in this hell. The bears, as he calls them, won't get him if they know he's dead for good. The cannon sounds.

I drop him, rather unceremoniously and swim diagonally through the water, the current is stronger then ever in the frenzy that is occurring around me in this moment. I make sure my feet never touch the bottom of the pool. And yet, I feel a sharp bite on my ankle and then another on my arm. Large fish are now biting at my skin and attacking... _since mutant slugs with teeth weren't enough_.

Paddling faster at least gets me out of the water but as I do emerge I am taken back by a sharp knife piercing deep into my shoulder. Nicky is smiling at me with a crazy grin underneath the unnatural moonlight. The Gamemakers are fully aware all hell has just surfaced.

"Time to filet the Fish Boy!" She laughs with a crazed expression. I have no strong weapons against her. My teeth grind against one another as I grab the knife out of my shoulder. It's all I have against her now, this and my net from earlier still wrapped at my belt. There's no trident but I perch the knife as I cast the net upon her.

In her frizzed and bloodthirsty state she thrashes around on the ground, crying and laughing, having a spasm of death just like a small animal caught in a snare. My mind flashes to only a few days ago and how radiant she looked in her costumes. Her hands shake and I notice that within them must be her last knife.

I only have one shot as well.

My body arches as I breathe in for the attack. As quickly it leaves my hand it pierces her throat, not with three spokes like a trident might inflict but only one... she doubles back with blood sputtering from her lips and I scream an angry roar.

For everything. I want to blame her for all of it. For the innocent boy she just killed. For the person – murderer – I've been forced to become.

The net threatens to crumble under her rage as she tries to free herself. I pin her to the ground removing both knives from her ownership. What do I do now? She's not dead, but it looks like she's crying blood, it crusts her face and I notice that she's not just coughing but she's choking on her blood. I need to end this. Two figures pass by in the brush and I don't get a chance to note them, I figure with almost positivity that they are the remaining Careers (the real ones, unlike Nicky and I) – one must have fallen to a bear. I notice no more of the bear creatures remain, all must have retreated back to the mountain, not treading past the water as the District Three girl assumed.

Nicky mumbles words to me and these words are fully incomprehensible at this point with blood overflowing from her mouth. I need to put her out of her misery. Quickly and with mercy I stab where I think her heart lays. The cannon fires. I know I don't have long... but nonetheless I take her to the water and mark her forehead in an up and down motion with the water – like a wave. It's what we do to the dead back home. And she's a part of my home, regardless of her attacks and actions against me.

I remove her from the net and walk away. Limping. My leg has been bitten badly and my shoulder is bleeding through the rags I place on it. I lean my back on a tree, looking to the spot where the little boy laid moments ago, what must his family be thinking right now? I pretend to see his life flash before my eyes, as if I am him. This puts me at ease in some situations.

I see myself, no, I see Grier. Running through woods just like these, laughing with friends, all of that ceasing as a doctor tells him his time is short on this Earth, the struggle he exerted as he made his way to the stage after his name was called. And then it's over. Gone. An entire life wasted.

"Goodbye Grier." I whisper. I hear the wind make a tune in my head. And then I see it. A parachute with a large box attached. Something that big... how much would that cost?

I open it the metal lid shinning with temptation. What I find inside must be a trick. But my fingers brush the fine artistry, the curve, the radiant gold color. _It is real_.

This is my trident.

It is unheard of that tributes are sent weapons like these. With how quickly the other tributes have dropped it must have added up to be the largest sum of money these games have seen! I quickly clean my body and take the bandages off my feet, they were hardly soaked to begin with. I only have a few seconds to apply the medicine sent to me earlier and re-wrap the old bandages on these new wounds.

I rip off the remains of my clothing, as thanks to my sponsors and give them a wink.

These games end today. I almost smile at the thought of killing the remaining tributes. But fatigue comes over me. I sink down in the dirt, letting air slowly calm my body, too many calories were burned in that last stretch.

With my new weapon fit for a god I take it out to the river and hit one of the mutant fish swimming about. It's larger then my arm, with teeth bigger than my middle finger. Now with a weapon and no fear I decide to fry it on a quickly made fire. The fish is utter manure, but I don't die, so at least it's not poisonous I pick myself up, but not before another cannon sounds.

I try to add it up, I try to figure out the people I will have to kill. I start wandering through the forest in my thoughts, my trident poised in kill position. Only two careers - Nicky and one of the others are now dead, Grier is gone, there's that girl from the cave, and the random shot from earlier, I guess someone that was killed by the coming careers. Five dead. Four left. Two careers, two others, and me.

A cannon blows. Make that three left to kill. It sounded like it was behind me, but that shouldn't matter, I decide to head for the Cornucopia, nearly positive the remaining tributes will all gather there.

Something seems wrong, though. There aren't any forest creatures in this area at the moment... and then I feel the ground begin to shake, I watch in horror as I am engulfed in a blackness behind me.

Instinct kicks in and I run. The ground is falling, taking down the mountains, the river, only leaving a black pit in its wake. I can't stop running, every now and again dodging the random cracks that ultimately connect to the large pit getting closer and closer to the backs of my feet. _I keep running_. Fear overcomes me, this is how one tribute already died. I will not die here, _I will not die here_, I repeat it to myself. Run, Finnick, run.

Fatigue overcomes me, I am tired, and all of a sudden parched – I think of the water I had in the cave, I really should have drank more. A hinge of golden tail appears in my vision but I am stopped by a large rock that comes out from a tree branch. I fall on my back, hoping the world will not collapse beneath me but I notice the crumbling has already stopped. When did that happen? I look around, confused. The small arena now sits at the size of my town square back home.

Blood drips off my forehead and I smear it when I bring my hand up to rub it. I can feel a large gash and a sweltering bump forming. There she is, Opal, she's cowering in fear in the tree above me. She screams, "Ox! Come back! Save me!" No one comes, and I don't hesitate. I throw the net tangling her as she screams in pain, but not for long. As I pull the net back towards me I look down at my feet and throw the trident down, piercing her skull and leaving blank eyes that look back at me with nothing to say.

I take my net and trident and keep running leaving the decapitated body behind me. Not even looting it. A day ago the picture of this girl's disfigured body would destroy me. But not now. Now it is all I hunger for the cannon sounding off behind me fuels this.

"These games end today!" I yell at the top of my lungs. My breathing is heavy and I watch my blood flow out of my open wounds steadily. I can only hope they end it all soon so I can be taken care of. I see a small movement in the bushes and throw my net without hesitation, a scream calls out and then is silenced by the stabs of my weapon.

A boy my age lies tangled in my net as his body twitches. My accuracy was off and I unfortunately only damaged his central nerves. I let him twitch as I retrieve my net, kissing my trident along the way and holding it above my head as I stab the boy a final time. He was a nobody. Most likely hiding in those bushes for the whole games.

It's at this moment I begin to realize what a catalyst Grier was for me. The cannon sounds off and all thought escapes me. I run to the Cornucopia, knowing this is where the Capitol likes to end the games. I know only one enemy remains. Cockily, I begin whipping my beautiful weapon, knowing it's all preparation for _his_ skull.

"Come out Ox! Let's finish this!" I yell, heaving like an animal. And then I see him. Charging at me with a long blue sword dripped in the same blood that stains mine. I position my trident, but the sight of his mutilated arm snaps my thoughts. My mind goes blank. Or is it the head wound and obvious concussion I am suffering from?

A part of my mind lets the sword pierce my arm. His accuracy is off, but I can't stop looking at the spot where his arm should be and mentally freezing my response to it. Blood drips from both of us. What a pitiful fight we both are. I stagger backwards, it's then I realize I have neared the edge of the arena, the rest of what once was has collapsed into the pit below. Only the cornucopia remains.

"No water for you to hop in now." Ox laughs. His laugh is insane, like mine from earlier, like Nicky's. I know the people watching are glued to their seats, this is what they've paid for. It would be an upset to lose now. Ox stumbles a moment and I take this second of weakness to remove the net from my weapon heaving as I go about the simple action. If it doesn't end now, I am in bad danger of dying. I hold the trident in my hand like a spear. It moves above my head and I run, at full charge, yelling.

I yell something even I can't comprehend as I bring down the killing blow. It pierces his abdomen and heart, the spokes poke out from his back, bits of flesh dangle on the ends like a fish. I continue to run. I run right into the golden Cornucopia. Sticking my trident into the shimmery material. The carcass of meat and flesh still hang onto the spokes, but are now lifeless. The cannon sounds and I lay back onto the grass. I just lay until I see the hovercraft come and scoop me up my entire body now unstable.

I am thrown onto a bed and my breathing steadies, tubes get shoved into me, pills forced into my mouth. My eyes open and close again and again and none of it registers. How many days are passing? I feel liquids pump into me, connected to my leg and arm. My feet feel wrapped in some odd shoe and eventually I have enough strength to pull my hand up to my pounding head and feel the soggy gauze covering it. A beep sounds consistently that beats in tune to my heart. My head continues to spin getting me ready to throw up. The taste in my mouth is sour and yet intoxicating and I stay still as it makes my eyes forcibly close against their will.

I am left in my thoughts for now, until they need me. I assume I've won, that this isn't what death is like. Only questions are what fill my mind, asking what is real and what is fake. I have no answers for myself and my mind heaves in distress, hardly even owning a recollection of the games I just fought in.

Who, even, am I?

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><p><strong>AN Hello! I would like to explain some decisions I've made in the story so far. I usually pride myself on sticking to the canon and try as much as I can to follow Panem's methods and Katniss' descriptions of others. This being said when I wrote the story three years ago I wrote Finnick as a non-Career even though it is stated on the Hunger Games fanpage that he is in fact a Career... At this point it would weaken the integrity of the story to change this so I have left it. I hope my excuses and explanations of the title "Career" from Finnick's perspective suffice in suggesting Finnick could have been one without having been trained... instead just simply being in District Four gives him this advantage. Thanks!**


	8. The Victor - VIII

**Shorter chapter, yay! :)**

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><p>It isn't until an old lady comes into my view with a blank smile painted on her face, that I am even fully aware the extent of what has happened. I am a mess. My body feels scared even though none are left in their wake. Some of the skin that has regrown feels so slippery and new it burns and feels like it might rip off.<p>

Images come to my mind – horrifying ones – things I hadn't seen in my berserk rage at the end of the Games... The tears dripping from Ox's face and mixing with his mangled body, fear personified in the boy who should have won these Games. It haunts me and chills course through me even though the room's temperature is set to the perfect balance of warm and cold. I still turn restlessly in sleep and everything in me itches to tear away from this dreaded place and escape. Noting that anywhere would be better than this strange, white room.

She steadies me, Mags does, helping to move my aching limbs into an expertly stitched suit. The prep team cries, as if they never stopped their emotions when we first departed. For some reason they seem to believe that complimenting me on my looks, on my kills, that this will make me feel better. Several bristles from various combs course through my hair and it's no longer matted and hard with blood or sweat. They push me away from the main dressing area and beg me to see the victor I apparently now look like.

Nothing has drastically changed, I still look like the same fourteen year old boy so sure of himself and proud – only I do seem different. My body arches into itself now, I managed to grow an inch or so this last month, the muscles I once sported are now charred away and I look hungry as if I haven't been fed in years. I am assured I look better than before and yet I feel so ugly, so hideous and despicable. Nana Koa told me years ago, as a young boy, the things inside you surface and all the good and bad you've ever done is visible. This is how I feel... like everyone can read the horrible things I've done, the people I've killed and betrayed, the blood that splattered my face from various conquests.

I hate the person staring back at me... still trying to smile, still trying to keep up his act, but it's pointless. _I am __broken_, never to be the same.

I feel a hug from behind and I only get a small glimpse of his rainbow colored eyes to know it's Thomps.

He smiles up at me, "The noble victor."

Is this really my new monicker? What was noble about anything I did in there? All those children I killed, and yet something fights that reasoning... something that tries to justify the pain I feel myself: I am only fourteen years old – that will put my name down in books as one of the youngest victors. It was hard to do what I did and accomplish it so well, but it would also be the biggest let downs in history if I hadn't won...

Hands grab at me and move me around the empty training hotel. My crew head in first for their few statements on my victory, Mags says nothing which is rather common for her at the age she holds.

Trumpets blare and it's now my cue to enter back into the Games... back where I am Finnick Odair, an attractive man with a romantic side. Caesar grabs at me and smiles with his white teeth the color of bones. People in the audience return the expression and chant my name as if I really accomplished something remarkable. It was remarkable, what I did, but I wouldn't call any of it good.

"I think we all knew this day would come," his over-dramatic voice booms throughout the room, "Panem's most beloved victor, Finnick Odair, from District Four!" The crowd erupts and tears well in my eyes unable to handle the foreign emotion around me, the noise causes me to twitch and with ever whistle I want to look behind and make sure the ground is stable and not being sucked into blackness as I know it can.

The cameras watch my every move and I am made aware of this by a small screen at our feet that shows both me and Caesar in every light possible. It takes several deep breaths to answer his questions and keep with fluttering eyes... to keep that smirk stable and not have it slip into a confused frown.

President Snow walks out next to another roar of applause but this time I am sitting in an ornate chair and feel better about all of it. The golden crown decked with several gems rests heavily on my head, in more ways than one. The weight of what must be pure gold slides onto my ears with a heavy pressure, but it's also all the people I've killed to get here that add to its strength.

Caesar sits me down and we watch the recap compiled of my Games. As if I want to relive the horrors I had experienced there, revisit all the pent up pain. These Games will be something to follow me now my whole life... I am the only male victor now capable of assisting Mags in mentoring, the others are all too broke and old... she smiles at me from afar and I pray she can teach me that mystery – how her smiles come off so natural even with the mental anguish I know she feels.

The video is hard to watch, showing me naked in multiple portions and then on my pedestal. Grabbing Grier as the Capitol weeps already knowing of the events to come both of us. Their silly faces stand up and cheer as I kill Nicky, as if she can marred the villain of these events. My eyes twitch and fall downwards as I am gifted the trident and use it to attack the rest of the arena. I should be grateful to all of them, but instead their responses and cries make me feel sick. Caesar grabs my hand giving me subtle nod alluding that he will announce me as victor now – I wonder if he must do this for victors... no one could possibly sit here and feel good with themselves throughout.

"The victor of the 65th Hunger Games from District Four: Finnick Odair!"

The crowd yells, they yell so loud I feel my ears begin to pop and I hold them out of instinct figuring that they're bleeding. But Caesar takes my hands tighter, knowing that all I am now is a shell-shocked boy, dreaming of a normal life back home. The luster of the Capitol for my eyes is gone.

Everything happens quickly, this is a breeze compared to the constant barrage of people and cameras that liter the Capitol. I am on the train once more, the same one I traveled with before, but it seems garish and laden with dead tributes of the past who never get to see it a second time.

Once more the barrage of compliments fail to slow, I am never released from the idea that the Capitol worships me... that somehow through this whole mess I am in some way indebted to these people. Thomps raves about his pleasure working with the strongest, most handsome victor he has ever seen... my face turns downward as he continues this assault of words... I wish I was hated for winning instead of loved. Mags enters the room at just the right moment, shuffling over to the couch and joining in with me.

"Leave," only a respected old woman like her could actually get him to bow out of the room with just one word. I need her mentoring, I need her instruction... she sits up with me and I know she's figuring out what to say but in this moment I don't want words.

I shovel my head into her chest and begin to cry, for the first time in a while I know I can emit this. No cameras can capture this and if they do it's for briefing purposes and not the Capitol audience. Her hands caress the back of my head and so many different feelings overtake me.

The child in me wants to flood this earth with my pain and sorrow, but another part of me scolds this half stating simply I am no longer a child – that I need to stop crying about it. She holds onto me the whole route home, through the Districts where I murdered children. Getting this emotion out of my system does help and it relaxes me to a point where I can at least pull back and view my mentor.

"Please, Mags," my voice cracks on the words pathetically, "please, teach me how to laugh again."

She nods and taps my forehead before giving it a soft kiss.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading, reviews and comments appreciated!<strong>


	9. Times Are Changing - IX

I gather myself when the conductor announces only a half hour more until Four comes to view. This forces me to paint on my smile once more, to paint on the Finnick who everyone believes won the Games and greet my District with pride.

Many gather at the station and cheer loudly for their new victor: I mean extra food for everyone, I mean parties, I mean pride for all of them. I search the faces of the crowd for the girl from the beach, also keeping a keen eye out for Nana Koa. I find neither. Just as I get ready to descend into my village where everything seems strange and untouched, but still not like how I left it, the smell of the salty air hits me as forces my lips to curve upwards. This _is_ District Four.

The crowd clears a path and I run, with that smile I know looks stupid stuck onto my face. My feet take me to where my home is on the beach. I open the old door with a wave of excitement in my breath.

"Mom, dad?!" I yell. I've never been overly attached to them, not since things have gone down hill with Sedna, but now I really want to see them – I want my mother to hold me and I want my father to pat me on the back for a job well done.

I find no one as I enter the house. Bottles are still strewn where I knew them last. The doorway to my parents room is overturned and their bed still unmade, even if my mother is more obsessed with the love her husband she still does her best to clean. Not even a trace, or a crumb of where they might be. The fear that I passed them up after I got off the train eats at me, that would be horribly embarrassing for all of us.

My feet fly off the ground as something taps my shoulder in the empty house. I turn to find Nana Koa behind me with Sedna in her arms clawing at some imaginary object. With a frown she embraces me, holding my body tight, and even though she seems sad I gratefully accept the affection from someone I love. Sedna whines as I take her into my arms, it quickly turns to awkward giggles as I play with her fragile skin. Nana Koa moves me to the kitchen table, making sure I'm sitting before she offers me the news she possesses.

"Finnick... your parents," she turns away from me making my nerves run wild, "your father was the one. He went to the mayor first, to protest you in the Games. He didn't know until they had started, no one had told him."

I crease my brow, "_My_ father did that? How didn't _he_ know? Why did _he_ even care?"

The olden woman bites her lip, something I've never noticed her do, "They said he was delirious and drunk, but it's when he started spiting the Capitol that they came for him. I had Sedna with me, but your mother wasn't so lucky. Both of them were taken away... you know they loved you Finnick, please tell me you knew this."

My breathing quickens as tears form in both of our eyes. How stupid could I be? I never said goodbye, I never even said hello that morning. The tears fill my lids liberally now. My whole life I hated them and never got to right that... and now they are gone. I will never see my father again, on a ship out at sea with him. My mother will never tell stories to me on nights I can't rest. Albeit most of those memories were of my younger life, but it still hurts. No it doesn't hurt, it devastates. They loved me, and I never gave them anything in return. I ran here ready to forgive, but it is now too late.

I don't even notice Nana Koa's arm as she pulls me tightly, my voice is now extremely vocal and I could care less who hears. The sweet lady continues to whisper into my hear in attempt to soothe me. She flattens my strands and holds me into her body.

After a while my tears are soaked into Nana Koa's scarf and I can do little to remove the dampness. Several pairs of feet sound on the porch of the small house that was once mine. The Peacekeepers have come to direct me to my new house in the victor's Village. Nana Koa leaves with a kiss as I take Sedna closer into my body. The men congratulate me and quote things from my Games. I used to be like them, excited about a victor, thrilled by the stories on TV... but now I can't be. I can never regain the excitement after having gone through them.

The new house is gorgeous, with fresh white paint, several tapestries hanging and even a full fledged fireplace with a TV above. I have only a few moments to explore the rooms, the stainless kitchen, the plush coaches, the large master bed. To think this is my home should thrill me, but it doesn't. I still feel empty, this home feels empty feels empty, all I have with me are a few bags and my younger sister. Apparently someone else has joined us as well, however.

It's President Snow, the gray haired man himself. He smiles somewhat sinisterly, "Hello Mr. Odair," all these years I've wondered as to what his eyes remind me of... now I see it – snakes – they look just like the sly predator calculating his attack.

His arm motions me to sit down. I move over to the couch, falling into it with little resistance as I continue to pat Sedna's back, she mumbles some trace of a word every now again.

"Hello, President Snow," I watch him closely, unsure when he will strike, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I am just here to understand what page we're both on. Your father was a very vocal man, I allowed you to complete your Games but I hope you do not abuse my inclination that you are nothing like him..."

I shake my head, "I-I've never been a loud person, no," my eyes shut and I try to remember my father, the whole man and not the part of him I despise, "he was never overtly loud either if I recall."

"Finnick Odair... you have a nice name, your father was supposedly a proud fisherman if the intelligence serves me right? I just hope to not have that problem with you. The problem," he stops a moment to make sure I understand he sees my father's outburst as an issue, "was swiftly taken care of and now things have quieted. Finnick, I require your allegiance, your compliance if you will."

Sweat begins dripping down my neck and down to the base of my spine, "What type of compliance," my emotions get the best of me and I accidentally blurt out something eating at me, "I never want to kill again!"

He smiles with a mocking twist of his lips, "Well that's good, that will help both of us. No, what I require is acquiescence at a minimum, so that I know when you visit the Capitol you are what the people know you as. You see, you're a popular boy, people want to see the Finnick that won, they want _you_," he decides to clarify, "I will sell you and your body to those who deserve the pleasure. It is up to you to accept and pleasure these special clientele. If you disobey it's probably I will not kill you directly, right away that is, but I will find other means of forcing you to conform."

I can't stand to look in his eyes anymore and we break contract, "Do you... you mean you'd kill others around me?" I sound like a child and I can't help the cracking in my voice, I've cried too much today for it to be at useful capacity.

That damn smile slips to his face once more and all I can do is hold Sedna more protectively as he moves over to pat her head – I know he means he'd kill _her_, it's such a deliberate answer to my proposition, "You're not nearly as daft as I had assumed. I hope then, you have the good senses to heed this warning and make your new life as a victor a good one – one that will mean happiness for the both of us."

"How," I can't seem to form the words they're so strange to me, "How am I supposed to do it? To _pleasure_?"

"After the Victory Tour you will have one final celebration in the Capitol, while there we will share you with several high bidders – these people spent lots of money on your Games," He pauses a moment to catch his breath, "You will do as these bidders wish, many victors are in the same position as you but you are extremely popular. Be their partner, kiss them, please them, take photos with them. The cameras are always rolling and I will always be watching you Finnick, making sure your actions are in line."

My mind flashes to the older boys who used to voyage with me – always talking about girls and sex, but it's nothing I have experience with. Of course I know what happens... I'm a boy afterall, but I've never gone through with it. It's at this point I feel my eyes glassing over with a layer of water, ready to leak on cue. My family is small and they can easily be stripped from me and then where would I be? But still it itches in the back of my mind, "I'm only fourteen..."

"Ah, that doesn't matter in the Capitol where people are refined, you shouldn't even need to think about it – it should become as natural as your heartbeat. Put your pretty face on for the cameras, be promiscuous like you were in your Games," he begins to stand up and leave though I don't get up to lead him out, instead I stare around the walls of this strange home and sit silently. I am startled when he starts again having somehow thought the last few minutes were imaginary, "Are we at an understanding? I am sure we will meet again Finnick Odair."

I nod, unconsciously, some other person forces my actions, they're not me. I offer no response but know that by now he is in earshot of others, "Oh, and congratulations on winning the Game – some say there are never any real winners, though."

The door shuts and it makes a hollow slam sound louder in the vast house. I should reveal some emotion, I should let my feelings fly and tell others about them... but I can never do that. Doing something so irrational would endanger the few people I still love.

I make my way through to the Square like a zombie, still ignoring the unpacking that must be done in my new home. Everything hits me as I take the long steps from the victor's Village – my parents' death, my forced prostitution, the fact everyone I love is now in danger. I want to topple over and die right now, they could probably say it was just a unforeseen side effect of the Games. Through my mindless trot I find myself on the doorstep of the fishing supplies shop. My face falls into a familiar shoulder and I can hear the old lady lock the doors as she takes me in once more.

"Finnick, we all watched those Games, we know what your face looked like when those horrid tricks were played. Look at me, child," I pull my head up to face her dark green eyes, "don't turn to anyone or anything besides your lady."

Her words lose me – I have no lady, and after Snow's words it sounds near impossible for me to ever keep one in the future... how could I be so selfish to love someone I knew would be in great danger? Nana Koa smacks my forehead, not hard, but enough to cause me to stumble backwards.

"The sea, your lady is the sea, Finnick, she always has been. She will answer your questions and calm the storm in your head..."

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><p><strong>Thank you for the continued support!<strong>


	10. Annie Cresta - X

My emotions have subsided, for now at least, they are replaced with the joy of grabbing a coil of rope and a trident. It's easy to trace my way to the hidden side of the beach. It's then I see her, swimming beautifully in the water as if it was an art.

It's like those stories I was told as a younger boy – she looks like a mermaid, the spitting image of one. Long wet hair that ends up curling once tasted by the sunshine, legs that easily find their movement in water. She is home in that sea, just as I am.

I decide to just sit on the sand. Like the day we first met, but this time it is me watching her swim from afar. It makes sense to me now, why she thought I looked so beautiful in the water – the sun sparkles its rays in the water and mixes with blues, pinks, and pastel yellows. It's hard not to look like an Adonis in such a perfect setting.

She is hilarious to watch, her body swims without a care as she edges near the dolphins. At first they accept her into their ranks but she is quickly slapped by one of their fishy flippers. I can't help but laugh loudly even in spite of what has happened today. My jovial demeanor quickly fades, however, as she dives deep down into the water for longer than I expect.

Immediately panic strikes me like it had the first time she ended up tangled in the weeds below the earth. To my relief she returns to the surface and with a wave of her arm she beckons for me to join her, she must have caught my laugh and noticed I was staring.

I strip off my shirt and pants, having no fear of my body after the Games. It's hard to imagine how good she's gotten at swimming since my absence, but she is _good_. I've lost some of my own ability by not being near water larger than a tub for several weeks, we're probably on the same level right now.

For the first time in a long time I laugh, without one single care attached to it. I catch her body and playfully pull her under the water with me our wet bodies connect as if we both understand what has happened since my leave but we refuse to acknowledge it. Different rays of fish swim up around us, as if recognizing the great fisherman himself is back.

We do this for what seems like hours, until the sun is departing from us. I grab her hand as we swim back to shore and flop tiredly on land. Her hand stays entwined in mine without any hint of release.

"My name is Annie," you can tell she's been swimming the whole day, her voice is breathy and hushed with salt. She turns over onto her side letting the sand stick to her wet hair and skin, "and you're Finnick Odair, the victor of District Four."

I turn over on my side as well, getting just as much sand on my wet body as her. In the same attitude she has offered me I joke back, "My name is indeed Finnick Odair. And you are Annie, the girl who for some reason never left my mind during my time away... But the same girl I know so little about," a smile creeps to both of our faces.

Then it disappears as her emerald eyes darken, "Finnick, was it hard being in that arena? I still have quite a few years to pass before I'm clear of the Games," I instinctively take her hand, I don't know what my mind's motives are, but something is clouding my rationale – blind instinct, perhaps?

"Annie, I hope you never have to go those games. I hope this innocence you possess is never washed away," I smooth the hair back from her face. We lie like that. What attracts me to her is still shrouded from my reasoning.

For the next six months, this is how I spend my time. Ignoring the world around me, the world of hate, danger and lies – and instead only spending it with the mermaid. Somewhere along the passage of the months I realize that it was my lady who sent her to me, who sent Annie. We talk about many things together, and in more ways than one it's like we've been friends forever. Like I never went into the Hunger Games and instead I grew up next door to this strange elven creature.

But happiness never lasts... and the peaceful days of my Homecoming pass, leaving me to only be whisked away and thrown back into the fray of the Capitol for the District Tours. Mags knocks on my door, I've spent time with her on my "vacation" as well. We share meals when Nana Koa works late and the old victor even looks after Sedna when I go out to be with Annie. She really likes the little girl, treats her just like a daughter.

"Secrets," has been the only word of advice I have gotten from her and I can't interpret. She's repeated it too, like it's so obvious I should understand immediately... but I don't.

I feel more alone then ever when I step onto the train, I feel like Nicky should be here with me, or at least some other child. But I enter alone. Even though people celebrate me now, even though they cheer my name and offer me support I have never felt more different from them. They're a sweet people, District Four, but none of them know the true extent of the Games. The tax it places on its survivors.

Thomps continually nags at me for pulling my hair as we travel away from the village. But it's all I can do to keep sane, pull at something – it's this or chew my nails, or tap my foot, or bite on my lip... I've gotten more anxious since the Games and at least Mags understands, she knows I am only a lonely fifteen year old boy doubting his place in this whole mess of a world.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	11. District Twelve - XI

**Warning: Near the end of the chapter is a sexual situation.**

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><p>A gray, bland light arouses me from my rest, even with the cabin on the train set to a warm temperature I feel cold. My windows reveal a world blanketed in a puffy white powder, like one of the Capitol's desserts. It falls from the sky in drops, just like rain, but does it so slowly it must be a dream. Even with the constant stream of reminders pointing to my new life this forces me into a smile. Something about it seems happy.<p>

But I'm sure it couldn't be further from the truth. That this snow is some ruse and the District is not happy at all – even from what I saw of their tributes everyone emits a stench of depression. The crew enters my room, uninvited, but nonetheless acting as if this is normal. Hands comb through my hair and different brushes powder a shine to my skin that brings out the rough tan I've been developing. Thomps enters soon after going on about certain people in the District. This will be District Twelve, the coal District. Not sure how much more exciting it can get... I am not particularly looking forward to any one District but my own, though District One is said to be beautiful.

We step off the train and my smile is already plastered on as I get my first look at the land of coal. _It is nothing like Four_. Tall evergreen trees dome it in, but many are mere stumps due to the mining of rocks throughout the land. Everything feels sad because it's been painted in a layer of gray. Even the happy powder that has dusted this earth evokes a blackish undertone, maybe due to the soot in the air.

All my Hunger Games knowledge starts to come to me, I've been told to study up on it these last few days and since I neither have to work or go to school it's the least I could do. I think about their victor, only one, a man whose name starts with an "H."

Nonetheless I do my job, I let my bright white teeth (courtesy of the Capitol) wash into the background of the snow. _Be attractive_, _be sexy_. The words ring in my head but it is near impossible to accomplish... so many of the people look sad and as if they were forced to come here today. It's hard walking past the children, their eyes seem bigger than any part on their body – to be fair though the rest of their bodies do seem rather small due to malnutrition.

A car has been prepared for me, though I'm not sure why. There's not too much to this District. But they pile me in anyways and several cameras flash by. I've never ridden in one of these before, but it's nothing like the hovercraft and its wheels are much rougher on the pavement. We circle through the shops, some for bakery some for meats. Then we wheel past the school where many of the children stand outside and throw flowers – at least they look somewhat happy to see me, though they may have no idea who I am and just like getting out of class early, I know I would. Eventually we curve by more homes where people either wave, shield their eyes or stare. The last stop before we turn around is the barren victor's Village where no one outside waits.

We pass through the square again and I am helped out of the vehicle to a loud applause by many. The loud noises still twist with my senses but crashing waves back home have eased me back to reality, making this an easier manner to deal with. Cameras once more follow me as I make my way up the stairs to the front of District Twelve's courthouse. People are roped off and quartered while two families wait in chairs with pictures of their dead children behind them. I never even noticed these kids in the heat of it all, but I feel squeamish just the same knowing their eyes are viewing me with hate.

A microphone is passed to me and their mayor joins me, a man who actually seems "normal" in this town and not a starving zombie. He shakes my hand as he drawls on about the Games and how proud he is of me. It doesn't make sense though, that he would thank me... thank me for participating in the murder of their children. I guess District Four gives the same speech as well, though. The mayor nods to me and for a moment I am shell-shocked and I forget where I am... all I look out to is a sea of pale faces with distinct stares watching me.

I steady my breaths as I prepare my generated statements, "Hello District Twelve. Thank you for inviting me here today," _not like you have a choice_, "I appreciate the opportunity your children have given me... to return to my home and,"_ no, this is terrible why am I talking about their dead kids_, "it's all in good fun right?" I throw my arms up with a smile and I know how pretentious and ignorant a person I come off as.

No one smiles or offers any support so my laugh turns nervous. I continue to look around the District and make sure, once more, that I was not the one who killed their kids. Nicky may have been, but not me, they wouldn't hate me just because of something my Districtmate did, would they?

"Can't wait until the next Games," I know by now I should be hiding my white smile but I continue to flash it off as I slowly leave the microphone and side step away from the whole thing.

The Games are worse than this and at this point I'd rather be dead and left free of these judging eyes. Their mayor is more sympathetic as he hands me a trophy and begs his people for a big cheer. There is no cheer, just a loud clapping noise. He leads me inside shutting the large doors behind us and finally those eyes are off of me.

People from the Capitol quickly stand and cheer, a real cheer unlike out there, as they see me enter. These must be sponsors of mine who didn't have enough to pay for a dinner at a nicer District. I'm sure at some point it must get boring in the Capitol, and it's a quaint little vacation to see the Districts and get away from the city. Oddly enough these materialistic creatures put me at ease, at least I know they buy my act and support me.

Thomps gives me the go-ahead which means I can finally do whatever I want. Over by the bar I notice a stringy haired man, I know this is their victor. It isn't until I see the barren trophy case inside the courthouse I catch his name – Haymitch. I know we have a case like this back in Four. All of my plaques, medals and awards will go there, as a museum of sorts... but here there are so few compared back to home. There are only two names ever listed, and since Haymitch is the only living victor left in this District it is my duty to go up and talk to him – who knows, he might have information on how to handle these post-Game days.

I saunter over through the hall, knowing people from the Capitol are here and waving me on gives me a new confidence as I throw out my hand, "Hello, I am Finnick Odair: District Four's 65th Hunger Games victor! I am pleasured to meet you."

He looks at me, then he does it again. Finally he grabs his whiskey and chugs the entire bottle without bothering for a glass, "So you're the new sucker, huh? A dumb Career..."

I want to correct him, to explain that I was not in fact a normal Career but instead one who happened to fit the mold but he gives me no opportunity. Instead he continues to nurse his drink as he stares me up and down.

"You're not so much a smooth talker when it comes to the hard things," he licks his lips, letting his brain absorb all the alcohol. It's not surprising he noticed, what I did out there was horrible. I must make some guilty face because his demeanor turns more sympathetic and I feel better around him.

I look consciously around the room and hush my voice to a whisper, I don't want anyone to know what I'm feeling, "How do you handle it? After all the killing and screaming... I know what I am supposed to be for _them_," I nudge to the people dressed in tall shapes, "but how do I get to be myself again?" Even Mags couldn't answer me that one.

A sigh passes through him, a heavy one, "I didn't, not me at least, I couldn't. And now the beer numbs my pain, little by little, as I inch my way to my death, it's a great method really. You should try it kid..."

My heart sinks as he says these words, he moves away but apparently this new feeling of hopelessness is expressed on my face as one I would use to throw up, because four attendants rush over to me and help me to the bathroom. I didn't have to puke, but looking at the bowl of the toilet now it doesn't seem like a bad idea.

I rush over, clutching my stomach. I heave as everything comes out of my mouth. All of my secrets. I try to brush my hair back but it falls back into my eyes. I continue, even when there's nothing left but acid. Sharp pangs course through my stomach as my nerves urge for more to come up, but finally it has subsided – leaving me with nothing but an awful taste and a throbbing headache.

After a while of letting my head hang and allowing my energy time to come back, a hand reaches out for my shoulder. I turn and it's Haymitch who is standing behind me, with a rag in his hand. As he helps pull me up he wipes off my mouth and brushes out my suit – you can hardly tell there were ever chunks of regurgitated fish there. I stand in the mirror, regaining my balance and I despise the man who looks back at me.

"Listen to me," his voice is quiet but demanding, "if you still have people to love, it's not too late for you." He takes me over to the mirror, "Be the Finnick Odair they put on the TV. Come on, I watched the Games... do your _smile_," I do so, but not to either of our delight. Bits of vomit are still stuck in between my teeth. "Okay, maybe wash your mouth out first." I do this several times still offering no words to this helpful man. Feeling the cool refreshing water as it splashes my cheeks and chin is refreshing and I start to look a little more appealing in that mirror. "Better," he says, "now, I am no ladies man, but that's what you have to become. Be over the top, be like someone from the Capitol. Come on, we'll watch them." He motions over to me to join him.

We leave the restrooms and go back to the grand dinning hall. There are several high ranking Capitol officials there. They will be making statements on my behavior and watching over the Districts during the course of their visit – everyone is on their best behavior for them. Haymitch simply gestures to one of them, one with the blue wig and yellow lightning bolt flying through it. I study him. He makes large gestures with his hands throughout his stories, placing lots of winks and taking moments to physically touch his listeners. I watch his eyes stare right into his friends, never once breaking away. A woman appears next to him, in the same ridiculous outfit as him. He places his arm around her, pulling her in firmly but with a flirtatious touch. The pair move over to food tables with the man leading, I can only imagine their sexy or ironic comments about it. She giggles and he pulls her in for a dance making sure to continually bump into her, their skin touches in a number of different ways. He turns to make eye contact and notices me staring from the wall. I quickly turn away.

Haymitch studies me like I just studied the man, then his arm points out to the fray of it all, alluding that I should give the same act a try. I have to look at him several times to assess whether or not he's really serious.

I just made the biggest fool of myself with that horrible speech and now he wants me to get thrown on my face trying to flirt with grown women, "Practice makes the master Finnick," he almost laughs as he says this before continuing on a more serious note, "The time to fight this isn't now... Gather what you can my friend," my new mentor then walks away, picking up a new bottle of whiskey along the way. It's easy for him to say weird things like this, his outlet from the terror is simple – beer, wine, whiskey... I need to be much more careful and precise.

After a good ten minutes I start to trick myself into thinking why not? _My life can only go downhill from here_. Yep, at fifteen I have already reached my peak and will now inevitably die of crushing embarrassment. I spot a rather young woman playing with her shell fish on her fine china. I too grab some whiskey off the tray taking a swig, but it quickly makes my stomach heave. I put a savvy step in my walk that almost comes easy, like my feet are walking across feathers... I think the alcohol is clouding my brain. The woman looks up as I pull a chair next to her with a mischievous smile on my face.

"Oh, hello Mr. Odair," she smiles politely. The dress she's wearing doesn't do much to help things, it's a very low cut dress, with yellow flecks sprinkled on to it. It's not too outlandish, and she's actually quite classy with her white gloves – she's probably not as rich as some of these other Capitol girls. Those gloved hands pick up the napkin delicately as she uses it to wipe her mouth, keeping hushed eyes on me the entire time. She looks down at the big red smudge in the napkin and her cheeks flush a bit.

"I have to powder my nose, excuse me Mr. Odair," She tries to stand but I catch her arm, gazing into her eyes as best I can. She blinks a few times trying to break the contact but I stand and lean into her ear, by now my heart is beating faster than my brain can think everything through.

"We can go remove that lipstick somewhere else..." I purr like as best I can – using Caesar Flickerman as my muse, he always attempts to flirt back with the sultrier tributes. My voice attempts to be as quiet as it can in the crowded halls. A few seconds feel like minutes and with no response to my proposition yet my breath begins to quicken. Here it is Finn, just bury yourself now – she's going to stand up and slap you. I can feel the red mark mixing into my embarrassed face already.

"I know a spot upstairs," She whispers taking my hand her voice rings louder than normal, "Oh Finnick! You _must _see the study here it is absolutely fantastic!" The amorous woman drags my hand upstairs, but not before a second gloved hand brushes between my thighs. Somehow I don't think we're going to a study. No, instead as we cross to the top of the stairs we push into a different hallway where guest bedrooms line the way – we knock into one of these.

Her quiet and demure manners are washed away as she throws me on top of a bed made for a king – this must be where the people from the Capitol are staying tonight. The bed has long curtains hanging from its posts and fluffy fabrics scattered on top of its mattress.

Sweat breaks through my skin and I notice how clammy my hands have gotten. I am not ready for this... no, no, no. I was prepared for _maybe _a few kisses but this, this woman really wants to do something? I mean - - I stop arguing or justifying anything in my head.

There is something that just clicks in a fifteen year old's half-drunk head when he sees the bare body of a fully developed woman.

She winks at me, and it's as if once those gloves came off she became a new person. Her body looms over me now - breasts that are large and ready to take on the world. Skilled hands wash over as they throw off my suit jacket and start unbuttoning the rest of me. As she does this her arms squeeze together, only pushing her breasts up higher into my face. The sweat drips to my nose now. _So close_. My breathing now seems like hyperventilating. I try to calm myself but she moves to my pants.

Her smile grows wide... "So THIS is what we got to see on the TV?" She giggles spreading my legs apart and stroking the outlines of my muscles, "Bigger than what I thought... or maybe this is just what happens when a beautiful woman like me arouses a man like you."

Keep calm, keep calm. The words escape me as everything inside me gets hot, her hands touching my body, the breasts that poke out in front of me, those lips that talk with such experience. I push into her and she follows shoving her tongue into me. This is not _my_ first kiss, just my first kiss on a bed with a naked woman.

She moans as we both get more adventurous in our session of scandal. My hands move on their own, a different organ of mine is in charge now – I feel more animalistic, more violent to the point I pulling a little hair and dig my nails into her flesh. She responds with louder and louder moans, slight giggles, and more kisses. And then it happens my manhood gets the best of me. I throw her onto the feather filled pillows and lay on top of her. Ready with relief as I thrust myself into her, she grabs my shoulders as everything adds together.

"Finnick my dear, you are no novice to this game are you?" I keep going. It doesn't last too long as my young body quickly gives in, but she's satisfied. I've touched myself before, I won't lie, every boy has – but I've never gotten to do this before. Never. And maybe it's the hormones talking, but I loved it.

"Am I waiting for you?" I ask, trying to be somewhat polite after the indecency we both have participated in. A smile, a real one, is matted onto my face.

"You go darling, I'll come down in a bit after you, if anyone asks... say I've got a headache," I look at the once beautiful woman, now her face smeared in makeup and hair that begs to fall out of its pins. I pick up my clothes and fasten my belt. My feet dance quickly down the stairs as I enter back into the party.

"Finnick, the new victor." I feel a clap on my back, not unusual at this point. I turn, it's the mayor of District Twelve who offered me the speech earlier, "Congratulations."

"Thank you sir. Your District provides such necessary items for us all, coal, the rock of the world," I give a cheeky smile, as if the word coal is a joke in itself, "your tributes will never be forgotten in their struggle. Thank you for such amazing hospitality tonight." The words flow so easily from my mouth, I am now in character and it fits perfectly.

"Thank you, my boy. Very exciting games this year – we could all tell you would win with ease though," he looks around, "My wife was a very big fan of yours... she watched your Games from her room, you see she gets so sick sometimes," he taps my elbow and winks. I don't know how to interpret this but I just smile confidently in return, "Have you met her yet? I don't know where she is..." I shake my head and find my way to Haymitch.

I beam happily. "Well well well... What has happened to you?" He asks curiously.

I lean on the wall next to him, like some dreamy Casanova. Then I fix my position, hoping Haymitch doesn't think I'm hitting on him or anything, "I did _it_. I... messed around with one of the ladies here. It all came so naturally. I even -" I am about to tell him all the naughty details when the mayor bursts down the stairs yelling at a half naked woman whose wig is only half in place.

He stops half way down as she runs crying to the ground floor bathroom.

"Who are you sleeping with at MY party?!" He yells, his little white face now boiling red hot. My eyes get really big. I did not just do what I think I did to his wife... did I?

Haymitch whispers in my ear, "You didn't did you? You picked another girl right?" There's a pang of concern in his voice. His eyes get big as I shake my head as well.

"I think I am going to find my way out of here now, train must be leaving... yep, nice meeting you, Haymitch, see you at the next games," I smile awkwardly, as he waves and chuckles good-heartily allowing me to snake my way through the appalled crowds.

"Who would sleep with the mayor's wife at a party like this?" One lady comments as I brush my way in front of her, I give her a wink and she giggles, "Oh Finnick, you're such a darling," _right_, let's not forget the pity we should all give him right now.

I duck under a plate of ouidirves here and step right around someone's glass of wine there. I stop every few minutes to make a little comment in someone's conversation. There are so many people here, it's hard to maneuver around them all and find Thomps at the same time.

Then I stop. I watch in horror as an attendant walks over to the steaming mayor and hands him an object all too familiar. I feel around my neck and its emptiness only rekindles my fear. He's holding my shark tooth necklace – everyone here must have saw me in it – they all have to know, and even if they didn't it's not hard to put together that it would be mine. I wore it in the Games as my token.

"Finnick Odair!" The mayor's voice booms from the end of the large dinning table. My heart stops as I slowly look up... expecting to see my inviting death. But there he is – the same little old man who has calmed himself and is now holding up a dark glass of wine. I sense a shot of scorn in those eyes, something that tells me he knows, "A toast to you." I practically trip over myself, but I gather my composure. I grab a glass from an oncoming servant's tray and join him.

"A toast to the hospitable District Twelve!" I wave my glass as the people cheer. I don't see the mayor's wife anywhere. I am praying he doesn't make a witty comment, but how could he? How could he say a fifteen year old boy pleasured his wife at his party in his District? I think we both have a little secret.

But, just to be on the safe side, I manage to hide my 'trident' from the rest of the District Tours – I got lucky in Twelve.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	12. Secrets - XII

**Warning: suggestive themes****  
><strong>

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><p>Not too many other victors go out of their way to meet with me, a few here and there happen to cross paths with my tour crew, but other than that I'm on my own. I try new methods to ease my confidence, a yellow pill in District Three, a couple of strange drinks in Eight, and a curious mushroom in Seven. I tried to lighten my alcohol intake though, especially after District Eleven where I got into a couple of very dark places in my speech and didn't quite have the finesse to get myself out of.<p>

Right after the catastrophe, Thomps informed me that the Capitol would now be providing a suggested pre-written thank you speech during the District Tours, for not only me, but the future victors as well. I'm glad my name has been stamped onto the reasoning of that new rule.

An acute shiver of fear runs through me as the train rolls back out for the Capitol – the colorful city comes into full view within an hour, being so close to District One already. It is night by the time we arrive, just in time for a TV interview and party in my honor. The buildings are completely different from what I saw when I first entered, in the dark they are lit up with large shots of purple and yellows. I must be noticing new things since fear is not ebbing in the back of my mind: I see it all, foliage that dots different lawns, moving screens that advertise new products, several automobiles moving quickly to and fro.

The train pulls into a different spot than the one I remember pulling into the first time around – clearly this spot is not one for frightened tributes. I am greeted by an overwhelming sea of glittering people. I actually have to blink a few times to make sure it _isn't _the sea.

Mouths congeal together to scream my name, and scream they do... loudly, at different pitches and accompanied with different hand gestures. I am led out of the car by peacekeepers, they're dressed in black, not white, which strikes me as odd. Mags and Thomps follow quickly behind me as I wave and wink towards handfuls of people at a time. They all eat it up.

The streets mesh together as we pass by buildings, homes and businesses and finally land on the door of the grand banquet hall – all because of me. And grand it is. The massive doors stare at me with large flags printed with '4's in a golden lining centered in the middle. They open at the push of a button and a blast of cold air hits my face, one that Thomps urges me to press. I can see the lights reflecting off my skin as whatever lies inside glimmers like a rare metal – but it's not a metal, it's the Capitol's finest.

My breath drops as I walk in slowly. The black suede shoes that Noqall had hand made for my feet leave tiny ripples in the expensive pink carpet leading to the main event. Large marble pillars jut up around the building, and I find it strange to find each are painted with a poster of my face on top. A sea forms once more, this time with hands who reach out to touch and congratulate... people from all over, politicians, actors, business men, Gamemakers! All reach for a touch, for a stroke, for a feel.

It's been little over an hour and I still haven't moved from my spot on the carpet, the sea is too thick to break through. The cameras take what must be a million photos of my mug in the same expression as I started, each also attempt to record the same cocky smile I rear towards people who walk by. I feel someone link arms with me, at first I ignore this, instead finishing my conversation with the Head Game Maker – who congratulates me on my success with his mutant bears.

The person linked on my arm begins to lick my ear, so now I must turn. It's no one I recognize, but everyone else does. She wears a thick but clinging red satin dress, it has these odd cones shaped on her breasts and triangles padded at her hips, giving her a peculiar figure. Even her hair is dyed to an effulgent shade of red, while her lips form a slew of lighter shades. It must be her favorite color, and judging by the frantic cries of her apparent name she must be important.

I catch the eyes of the two peacekeeper body guards – this is a test, and even if it isn't I might as well treat it as one. I take the woman and pull her in close, giving her a long kiss on her lips. I pull away for only a second and then let our product hang in the air for a minute, lips centimeters apart. I finally pull away and the crowd takes a collected breath, as if the kiss was the most beautiful act they'd ever seen.

This woman's eyebrows curve in a seductive manner towards me and I offer out more of my arm to hold onto. Together we work through the hall and into the food area. She points at dishes now and again, pointing in disgust at some, laughing at others – all of it looks pretty delicious to me. After a while I pull her over to the one table and we stop to "eat" some berries apparently found on the other side of the world. I look at her, pretending to tell her about how pretty she looks as I stroke back her stray hair.

"And what is your name, gorgeous?" I ask, continuing our pretend flirting session.

"Just a girl looking for a good time tonight," She pouts a bit and the plastic in her lips protrudes downwards, "How do you not know my name yet, Finnick Odair? I've managed to hear lots about you."

Her hands move up to my neck as I tickle her chest with kisses, "Don't forget, my dear, we don't get Capitol Shows in the Districts. Your name would certainly be helpful to me."

"Gemma Wulls," She smiles, giving me a playful bite as I feed her a decadent cracker topped with these "berries from the jungle." She scoops them into her mouth ever so slightly, "Hard to believe you're only fifteen."

She tugs on my hair, "Your mind matures pretty quickly after going through something like I have," I let her feel up my abs through the suit, "My body has always lied about its age," I step away from her, letting her get a feel for the lack of warmth she had been supplied with by my arms – this is actually the first time we've been separated this whole night. I turn back into her again, "Bodies are best to be used when you have them right?"

"Are you implying something Finnick?" Her eyes twinkle mischievously. I put my hands on her triangle hips.

"Depends on if you're ready for it."

She giggles, "Finnick, the night is just getting started," Her playful face leaves as she leans into my ear with the deepest whisper imaginable, "You have to work for your pay."

With that she saunters over to the caviar table. I notice they keep their caviar dipped in champagne in the Capitol, something I've never seen done to the eggs, but the taste on my tongue is one of such pure satisfaction that any previous inclinations of the food I once had are now gone. I have only had caviar twice before. We sell it from our village, but it's so popular I've only ever snuck a taste when a jar was left broken and on the ground. The other time was in District One yesterday. I've fallen in love with the stuff.

We keep working our way through the food tables every dish is laden with some form of extravagance. No one in any of the Districts would be able to afford even half these dishes... well, I could, I am set for life. It will feel weird never having to count money again, but it's become something so banal with my new status. Gemma tugs on my arm, making faces as if she's full and tired of the food, I am now forced to stop eating and start talking to the people surrounding us.

I blink and a new batch of Capitol people pop up and begin talking at quick speeds, one more blink and it changes again. She has a glimmer of desire in her eyes. A young girl bobs in front of me, probably in her early twenties, "Finnick," she sighs with a longing smile, "someday I hope I can be an escort for new tributes like you. I've had such a predicament getting on the TV though. Always a problem here and there.," she says this in allusion to her body and it causes me to look her over and compare her to Gemma. Her nose is a little too big and it leans downward more than is desired, she's also rather short and there seems to be too much flesh built up into certain areas of her body. I think she looks absolutely fine – but of course it would never pass for the Capitol.

"Effie, you're such a doll. You will never get on the TV looking the way you do, sweetie. You would have to go under the knife and get rid of," Gemma swirls her hands at Effie's entire existence, "all this," she blurts out with disgust before turning back over to me, "I'll be back Finny, I'm going to go get _something_ to wash down this taste in my mouth," she smirks at the humiliated girl and gives a loud, "tootles," before tottering off.

I look back at this Effie, I've never comforted anyone from the Capitol before and I'm not sure where to begin... all I know is that she looks like she needs it, "It's alright, I think you look just fine. They're probably just taking so long because they're thinking of where to assign you – which district I mean."

This doesn't suffice fore the self conscious girl, "She's right you know... All this city cares about is how you look, naturally no problem for someone like her."

I laugh, "Are you kidding? I bet she has so much plastic in her body they're shipping her all the way from District Three!" Effie finally smiles and I give her a pat on the shoulder.

"Finny! Let's dance!" I am pulled out to the middle of the hall by Gemma's manicured hand. The ground is a waxed mahogany wood, a definite favorite of the Capitol, and there is a large ball of crystals spinning around us with millions of little lights, once again I am pulled into a dream like trance. I can't seem to find the beat though, all it is made of are strings being plucked... no brass or drums. The dance is slow and I manage to almost step on Gemma's toes a good four times before the music stops; we take a break.

"Finnick!" I almost don't answer to my name anymore, I just pretend I don't hear people – they're too tedious to deal with. I turn around to this particular voice though because I recognize it's high pitch as Thomps. He gives one look that reminds me of what I had almost forgotten this whole night – my big show with Caesar. Gemma has left my side and I search for her in the crowd, eventually finding her among the roasted ducks.

I give her my hand and then in a deep voice a proposition, "My dear will you join me tonight? I have a date with Caesar and a couple of cameras," I wink to her and her eyes light up, once more her hands cling to me as she becomes her own character.

One can only hope President Snow is watching, that he notices all the effort I am putting into this facade.

We are shuffled into a different long black car than the one we originally traveled in. The seats are such a relief on my legs after having stood for so long, I wish I could just go to bed now. Noqall joins us and starts adding this and that to my hair, different products but nothing too radical. After a while the wheels stop turning and the car stops – it's showtime once again.

Hundreds of flashing lights... these have been the only thing I can't shake from the Games. Every moment their bright whites sparkle in my eyes it's as if the earth is falling beneath me. Every time they catch me off guard I begin to be swallowed up by something, and all I can see are stars obstructing my own vision as if I was struck in the head. My feet begin to step backwards only to be caught by Gemma whose eyes shoot me a concerned look and snap me out of my daze. The slow motion seems to stop and I am back in reality surrounded by people craning to see the Finnick they supported.

Gemma continues holding onto my arm, smiling as always. Finally out of those Games and into these I turn to plant a "perfect" kiss on her cheek as the cameras capture the moment forever.

We slowly walk along the dark blue carpet towards Caesar who smiles at the top of the stairs. When we finally reach him he gathers both of us in his arms and kisses me on both my cheeks and plants a light one on Gemma's hand.

He settles the crowd down once the cameras point to him, immediately they quiet. The great Caesar looks at me in a mischievous manner and then begins, "Finnick, I feel like it was just yesterday you and I were sitting here talking about your odds for survival... And now look who so happened to make it tonight!"

I want to point out that it's only been six months since we were last together but instead I smile out to the audience, "I know Caesar, last time I remember being caught up in how remarkable the Capitol was... so imagine my surprise this time, when I return and find a lovely girl waiting for my company," I brush my nose up against Gemma's. She giggles. The crowd aw's.

We talk about some irrelevant things... like my new housing in District Four, my time in the Capitol – the interview is simple and boring to me, but I do try my best to act. Somehow the crowds disperse, Caesar signs off and I am left to my own devices – I should be going home now, but that will never be the case again. No, instead I have to head home with Gemma and _please_ her.

She opens the door to her loft which reveals a whole new world of the Capitol, large windows spread over the tops of the rooms and paint pictures of the entire city. Her marble floor makes a weird tune as her shoes clomp over it. The "it-girl" takes something out of a large door that spits out cold air coming from inside. Then she divulges the secret, a small, unassuming vial.

Gemma drinks half of it before her hands offer the rest to me. I drink it without remission and she nudges me to the bathroom past the hall. Confused as to why she wants to "have fun" over there I start my walk slowly – until I feel a hot bubbly feeling in my stomach. I now run, grabbing the porcelain toilet bowl, looking down into its repulsiveness with a sense of all of this being too familiar.

I begin to hurl the lavish amount of food I had eaten earlier tonight. It piles up in a digusting mixture – mushrooms, chocolate, caviar, sugar cubes. All eventually comes up and I can do little to stop it. My ears pick up on Gemma doing the same thing. The questionable vial is something my mind will never forget, and never again take. After ten minutes everything subsides and I hear the tell tale clicking of Gemma's on the floor once more.

"That's better," she looks at my disheveled face and I notice hers is rather relaxed, "What happened to you?" With a not more than a second passing she gets the connection, I've never taken one of those vials before and I now hate her for it. She tries to defend her actions, "we're always on camera, Finn! People like us can't put weight on!" She kneels down to the floor with me, "not that a man as active as you could though."

My eyes finally make the observation of her outfit – absolutely nothing. Only her heels cover the skin on her feet – but she kicks even these off and onto the cold bathroom floor.

"Let's save water, Finn, I know you love the sea... so let's shower together." She turns on the crazy complicated contraption that the people in the Capitol use to wash off. After a quick few changes in settings she beckons me to join her. I oblige, not like I have much of a choice, do I?

Without any delay we begin, and I start to gently thrust her in a lackluster manner, my fatigue takes over and so do my tired eyes. She seems to find it the best thing ever, I think she would have found it the best ever regardless if it were good or not. As we continue the only thing playing through my mind in the steaming hot water that covers my body and washes away the night are the thoughts of how badly I wish I were home... in real water, colder water that stings.

I can't even look in Gemma's eyes as we participate in this act, all I can think of is the sea and how much I will despise coming back here after a short stop at home that will undoubtedly fly by. At some point she has had enough and walks me to the living room, by now it's four in the morning.

"I know you want to get home... here's your first payment," I look at the coffee table and stare at the giant piles of gems and cash – it would set any family up for generations, I, too, would be ecstatic if I didn't know I had ten times this amount back home.

"I don't want money," this catches her off guard and comes so quickly out of my own mouth I'm not sure why I've said it.

"Then how do I pay you? What do you want?" She eyes me attentively, giving me the same face Mags does while she waits for me to figure everything out in my head... wait _Mags_...

"Secrets."

She laughs, "What could the great Finnick Odair do with my secrets? Trying to black mail me, honey?" Her face breaks into a serious one, "I don't think so."

I step back, "No,not about you, what about the way things work here?" I sit down with her on the couch, "How do I get ahead?"

She processes this and relaxes her defensive position, "You don't say _no_. You never say_ no_. When you say _no_ bad things happen," She speaks softer now, even in the comfort of her home, "The most loyal are rewarded. You see, when I was auditioning for the movie about the destruction of District Thirteen another girl got the part right before I went in. For big productions that get sent to the Districts, President Snow personally sees to all the actresses and actors." She stops to take a breath, to remember a certain detail.

"Anyways, I was distraught when I didn't get the part," She looks at my pretend face of disbelief, "I know right? How could they not choose me?!" She takes a minute to compose herself and I can feel we're getting to the juicy part of the story,"Well, I walked back to the crummy motel I was housed in at the time. I didn't live in a place like this yet. But I heard something weird as I did. It was that girl's voice! The one who got the part. I listened closely to hear what was going on... I even waited outside behind a plant. Then I saw him come out. One of Snow's right hand men."

"He's kind of like a yes-man, always saying that Snow is the best blah blah. I heard the girl crying inside. I thought she cheated to get the part, something I should have probably done, until I heard her call a news company and she tell them who she had slept with. She closed the door after she started up the conversation – but it all worked out in the end. She was in the news for some freak accident, and I got my call for the part."

"What was the yes-man's name?"

"Grig Wash I think, he's still around... still being a disgusting pig," She rolls her eyes, "Oh, moral of the story, Finnick, don't try to one up these people. Good things come to people who obey, like me!" She looks at a clock and then rolls over on top of my body, "I told Snow I was paying for you for 3 weeks you know. He called to ask. Told me if you were trouble to let him know, but you've been a very good boy," she licks my nose, "did my secret suffice for you?"

"So when I come back from Four I am to pretend we're still madly in love?" She looks at my statement with disappointment.

"Yea, you can _pretend_. This is for my new movie coming out, being with you is good for it. Snow let me be the first to have you as a present for being _so _spectacular lately, that's what he said anyways," she smiles, "I hope you don't mind me plugging in the film every now and again," I start to get up and gather my things while her eyes watch me slowly, "Do I need to think of a secret for every night now?" She giggles, "I mean I do like being a gossip."

"No, I'd appreciate it if you could introduce me to some more people and show me around."

She grabs my hand, "What are you going to do with the information?" She gets serious, "Blackmail with the Capitol doesn't work. They _will_ kill you."

_I'm going to wait till the right time to reveal it all_, but that's only what I say to myself.

"I'm just putting my mind at ease, that's all," I smile and give her a kiss goodbye and she waves, opening up her legs to show me her crotch while she's still on the couch, "Goodbye, Gemma."

I tousle my hair and unbutton my shirt in the elevator. If there's anything I've learned it's that the cameras can be anywhere, and I refuse to be played with. But this will be a long process: _revenge_.

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><p><strong>Feel free to drop a review or whatnot and let me know what you likedon't like with the story, thanks!**


	13. Unprepared - XIII

I fall asleep on the train, and later fall right into my bed in the victor's Village – it's such a cold and lone feeling being so far from the feeling and sound of the waves. And despite all the sleep I supposedly received after sleeping for so long I wake up early the next morning, before the sun comes through my window. I head out to my sandy beach and just sit, contemplating my maze of a mind and trying for once to ease myself.

I feel like there are two Finnicks. Well, there are. There's me, the real me that is honest, self conscious, and scared. Then there's the fake me, the confident, pretend, promiscuous one. It still baffles me as to why people like the fake me better. Maybe that's not a bad thing... it makes it easier for me to turn that character on.

I think about the tour – what Haymitch had told me and the same thing that Mags had mentioned before all of it. I try to piece it together, but I can't. It's like when my grandfather was still around, he would always tell me these "words of wisdom" but I could never figure them out, so they were useless to me... until now, when I finally get what he meant to say but it's so impractical now that it doesn't matter.

But I can't wait to figure this stuff out – I don't want to wait. And yet I have to. This time I shut out all the thoughts and stare into the rising sun until a figure obstructs my view.

"Hey Finn," the familiar voice rings in my head.

"Hi Annie," my eyes strain to glimpse at her beach curled hair, she's squinting towards me as well.

"I saw you on the TV last night. You're a pretty popular guy."

"I do what I can," we smile and I like the jokes that we share.

"You know, you can tell me anything, Finnick," _But I can't_. I can't tell her anything. If I do, she'll be liable. Something seems off about her face, it's wet, either she just got out of the water or sh's been crying.

"I can't. I can always listen to you, though. What's wrong Annie?" I look at her, I've known her long enough to at least know when things are troubling her.

"It's nothing... Just people calling me _stupid_ again," I look at her, almost in tears, "They think I'm a liar. That I lie all the time about my times with the great _Finnick Odair_. No one believes me and it makes me so mad sometimes," There's a twinkle in her eyes as she picks up a sea shell and throws it into the water.

I hold out my hand for her arm and bring her down to the sand with me, "I believe you Annie, I believe every word. You know I'd never give up on you," Her hand reaches for mine and we lay there, quietly.

"It's because you're so patient, Finnick, unlike them you know how to wait for good things," I have to think about that one. Hadn't I just had my own meltdown in my mind a few moments ago, talking about how waiting for revenge would be the death of me? There's a faint sound of music in the square – they're going to start the festivities today because this life never ends.

I begin to stand up, I know I didn't bother putting a shirt on this morning and I don't really feel like wearing clothes today. I am still holding her hand when we walk past my old house, I turn away trying to ignore the still fresh wounds. We continue walking through our little paradise in silence, which is something both of us need, luckily, there is no place like District Four. No place that has its palm trees, its salt, its fish. This is my home.

We reach the outside of the square, where the whole town is there, awaiting my appearance. I continue to hold Annie's hand, ready to participate in whatever small rebellion I can, "Let's make them believe you, Annie."

Her face lights up. The town parts for me as I make my way through, the faces reveal surprise as the odd girl from the school tails behind me. There are a few cameras, but little of this will be shown, the Capitol doesn't care for the District's happiness, just their sorrow.

I sit Annie down in a chair, where my parents might sit were they be here. I search the crowd and find Mags, not too far from where I also spot Nana Koa and Sedna. To my right is Nicky's family, and I know they must hate me. District killing District doesn't typically go over well, but it doesn't bother me much... I need to usher in a new era for Finnick, one where what people think does little to upset me.

Being back here, always has a calming effect – it lets me know I'm not so far changed. Here, I am not distracted with the rushing cars and crazy people. So I begin to speak from the heart, from that real Finnick. I speak clear and crisp, thanking the people before me for being there. Thanking people for teaching me things, supporting me, and thanking them for being my District and home. They all cheer and I manage to stop them for a moment, the way Caesar always does, with my arms.

"I also want to thank a person who I shared a lot with, now departed. She taught me a lot about myself and helped me be where I am right now," I look to Nicky's family and it's the first time I sincere with one of my winning speeches, "Thank you Nicky.

I nod to Thomps, giving him his cue to let, "let the feasting begin!"

The day couldn't be any more perfect. Dancing I can move too, drums and trumpets that put together a swinging tune. It's so easy to take Annie's hand, we both move our feet quickly to the music and I twist her around so she falls in my arms. There's all sorts of food and it's nice to see so many smiles filled with happiness. A train raises its whistle and it's only a haunting reminder to me that I must soon leave all of this. To ease the tension I take a swig of a pineapple cocktail, made by one of the taverns in town and not the Capitol – so its real kick has been retained.

I watch Annie is out there – talking to others. It's something I've never seen her do without me and it makes me thrilled, because when she's happy how can I help but be happy myself. All of our rare fish that we never get to taste on normal occasions are laid out before us on a long table. I help myself until a certain figure blocks my way.

"Well, hello there, Finnick, I've been looking for you all night."

A short young Capitol girl stands in front of me. I know she's Capitol based on the crazy waves in her hair alone. She wears a corset dress that no one in Four would ever dream of trying on, but the biggest give away is the thick, rectangular glasses. No one in Four checks their eyes, but I also know most people in the Capitol pay big money to get their eyes fixes all together – it's an interesting look and it makes her stick out. Of course she ties up the Capitol charm with a large black bow that threatens to poke her in the eye if she makes the wrong move.

She waves a fistful of gems in my face, "I have secrets for you too," she whispers when the coast is clear from prying ears. I am surprised she mentions _secrets_, as if my little gossip friend Gemma has been spreading the news already.

I try to pull Annie's gaze towards me, so I can let her know I'll be gone for a bit, as the Capitol girl drags me to a random room in the City Hall. Annie doesn't see me.

As soon as we enter I start taking off my shirt and the Capitol girl locks the door. But then it hits me – this is the room I said my final goodbyes in the day before I left for the Games. A wave of random emotion run over me. I can't do this, I can't do anything with this woman, not here, not ever.

"I can't," I say, honestly as she comes towards me with an obvious flirtatious grin.

She stops and cocks her head as if to ask why.

"This room, this party," I sit on the couch that I sat on a little less than a year ago as I looked into Death's eyes. I begin to sway recklessly and know I need to steady myself – I am not in Annie's view, I am in the Capitol's. I feel the fish and alcohol mixing – and it's a lethal combination. Like the nightmares I fight with every night I know what happens next. The screams, the screams of the girl being eaten by the bears, the crying yells from Nicky... I see every horrible part of that Game played over and over again in my head.

And it doesn't go away.

I start clutching my hair, wanting to rip it out. My arms are shaking, and I can't help the tears that start dripping from my eyes. I want to yell, but even my throat is being clamped by the emotion. I have failed, I expect this girl to scold me, to laugh in my face. Tomorrow I know I'll be going to a funeral for someone I love. _All because_ _I have failed_.

Surprisingly I feel a hand around my shoulder and it's the most comforting thing I've ever felt in this moment. My body still uncontrollably shakes, but not like before... my feet continue tapping and bouncing against each other anxiously, but not as horribly as I started. I open my eyes, but only for a second as they are flooded with tears again. I am so scared, no, terrified. I don't even know of what, or why I'm crying. All I know is that they're must be an enemy nearby, I must escape and get out.

But I'm trapped. And the walls moan as they start to inching closer and closer, attempting to suffocate me.

"Finnick Odair is having an emotional panic attack in my arms. This is _so_ going on my blog," I want to stop because something inside of me rages, something primeval I want to strangle her for being so self absorbed. I rack my brain how to pull this around, but none come to me, only her voice which changes into a softer tone comes through, "It's alright. I can book you for another time..." This time the pity is evident.

"No!" I can see my eyes through the expression following on her face now, full and desperate, "Please, please, don't tell Snow. I just can't do this. Whatever you do, please, don't tell him." I try with all my strength to steady myself and look desirable for her. I am still sniffling away a few stray tears when she begins laughing, and it's this strange sound that makes my mouth drop – she had just watched a fifteen year old have a panic attack before she did her way with him, and now she's laughing at him, at me. I hate the Capitol girls.

"Your secret is safe with me, Finnick. You'd be surprised really, lots of men in the Capitol are in touch with their emotions like you. This whole time I thought you were making those faces during the Games for us girls," she winks at me, "but believe me it's fine, I have lots of male friends like _you_." I just stare at my hands, I don't really want to look at her, but this conversation is so perplexing I don't even know how to think, she breaks the tension, "My name is Bex!" She holds out a smooth hand for me to shake.

"You see, I am a pretty popular news paper journalist in the Capitol and my father is ranked quite highly as well so he bought you for my birthday present – this is one of the biggest social events of the year here," she giggles then kisses my cheek, "I'll have to tell my friends about you, and so you know you owe me one for this and we'll have to meet up and get apple martinis sometime when you're back in the Capitol. Oh, and Finnick," she turns right before she unlocks the door to leave, not quite looking at me but keeping her voice hushed, "the Capitol is full of secrets. A web of them really. We're not supposed to look into them, but when we do we can unravel the entire thing. One secret is a strand, put them all together and the whole trap falls," I watch her leave, the big black bow bouncing on her head as she taps her boots through the hall.

She was on my side,all of these women have been. I still don't understand what "my secret" in particular is... but she seems to have a pretty good idea as to its origins. And a journalist is probably not a bad ally to have. Recalling the conversation she's actually one of the nicer Capitol girls I've met. I try to collect myself, but I make sure to bolt out of the room before letting it take me under again.

The relief that sighs through me is loud and long. Gradually my body begins to slow back down to a normal pace one more. I decide to walk further away from the commotion in the main hall before heading back for it. I am not ready to be the Finnick they want just yet.

I start looking at the building more closely, the hall that has always been here but I've never actually looked at. The wallpaper is a sandy beige with small motifs of sea-horses floating on it. Lamps that decorate the halls remind me of clams, and the white light inside are their pearls, it's charming. I continue walking until I reach a dead end. Only a fancy little side table with some beach flowers potted nicely on top sits in front of me. The unaccompanied walk through this building at least eases my mind.

I look at a small fountain in one bathrooms that are situated at the ends of all the halls, I check my reflection for signs of my weakness, luckily all have been either washed away or imagined. It takes a moment to convince myself of the character I must continue to play – the Finnick everyone loves.

My feet take me back to the dinning hall. No crazy bow girl, no Annie, just me and several other people who would rather get drunk than converse. I slump down into a chair and begin slurping up shell fish by the dozen. I don't care how indulgent this looks to others. But I do however at least attempt to be attractive while doing so, no use in killing my manners yet.

The night passes quickly and I wish it would go quicker. Throughout its course I manage to make some witty comments and get other people to laugh with me. There are no other girls waiting for my company – Snow must be waiting for the day he can fully mold me into the person he wants.

And then, just like that, a train's whistle blows for a second time and I am getting ready to leave. I hardly get to talk to Nana Koa or Mags and I don't even get to say goodbye to Annie, but judging by her face the last time I saw her she seems to be doing fine.

I sit down on one of the velvet couches in the train car. For the first time no one's with me, no stylists, no escort, no mentor. Just me. I get bored after twenty minutes with no one to talk to or anything to occupy myself with. I've learned over this year that it's not good when I let my mind wander, I'll end up coming across something better left untouched.

My gaze lowers to look down at my shoes, noticing that they've been the same black suede ones for four days now. There's a little length of rope sticking out from my sock and dragging across the shoe. I pick it up, ready to throw it away – it's pretty common for you to find odd things following you around in Four, fishing wire, nets, ropes, seaweed, it's always there. This time I don't throw it away though, it's useless but instead I begin tying it. I try different crazy knots I've learned in my years and then pull them apart in a matter of seconds.

Something so simple is now the most relaxing act I can participate in.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	14. The Capitol - XIV

Because of this little length of string I blink and find myself in the Capitol. Again. I put the rope on the inside of my lapel and exit the train... today there are no screaming girls, either because my return is unanticipated or it is too early for them. It's a weird schedule to follow, these return trips to the Capitol – they are around two hours behind District Four.

I am directed to my limo, it's the same limo I rode in to the gala... I already know where we're going. Even though I've stared at these houses on many occasions now their appearances always manage to change in the different lights that bounce from the sun throughout the day – at this hour they seem like lemons and peaches, each one looking tall and filled to the brim with things from District One. The entire Capitol actually looks much less threatening in the day-time. The millions of cars and people still zip past us but it's calm. As we stop at the mouth of a large fountain to let another car pass people finally begin to look through the tinted windows and get an idea of who I am.

I know they can't see me. Like an animal in a cage getting ready for the slaughter I can't leave.

We arrive at Gemma's house and I go through the motions I've followed before. But this time I feel I can be a little more honest with her. Never with things I would only tell Annie, and of course never the things I still can't tell anyone, but we do talk – mostly about me being only fifteen and having trouble with all this new sexual activity.

"Finnick, I can see what I can do. I mean, it's a pretty big deal around here when you get a victor for three weeks, I would think Snow is pretty happy with me."

I look at her with a confused knit of my brows, "I wasn't aware all victors go through this."

She laughs, "No, just the attractive ones. And luckily for the others, you've taken everyone's attention for now. A lot of the others are all on break."

"So I need to wait for the next poor sap to win and hope he's prettier then me?" I joke.

"Finnick, I hate to say it, but I think you will be in the spotlight for quite a while. You're just _intoxicating_..." She looks like she wants to say more but doesn't, instead she nestles her head on my shoulder, "Tell me about District Four?"

Finally, a topic I love, one I can talk openly about. It flows off the tongue to tell her about the water and its waves. About the fish and how amazing it is to swim in the salty water... and then, without my mind thinking about it, I mention Annie. I talk about her beautiful eyes, her gentleness, the way she swims with the animals, how she is like a mermaid gifted to everyone by the sea.

"So you already have a lover, huh?" She interrupts me and I snap back to my reality.

"Oh, no, I don't _love_ her," I start to protest... but the thoughts eat at me, maybe it is true. Maybe not love, but I do really care about the girl. Annie and I are closer to each other than anyone else I know. Gemma watches the struggle on my face.

"Well, it sounds like a beautiful place, I can tell why you always want to go home. For Annie," she grins and before I protest again she continues on her own, "it's cute, and it really does sound like the love stories we get sucked into reading her," She gives a mischievous grin before winking at me,"You know I think you've got to be going soon."

"Where?" I actually light up... does she mean I get to go home early?

She sees my excitement but decides to fix it before letting it brew too long, "You have to do an advertisement for one of the stylists. You know that's really lucky! It took me eight years before I got to do even one."

"What exactly do I do?"

"Must I tell you everything?" She smiles. "You go in, repeat some lines and hold some product that they made and look at a camera while repeating what they've told you to say. It's easy, and you can score really big points with the Capitol."

"Thanks... you're a good friend to have, Gemma."

She blushes, "It's really not a problem. Oh, and I'll see what I can do for you with Snow. Maybe ask him to put you on a schedule that is in time with the games, so you only have to do this crazy bit while you're mentoring."

"That would be amazing," my smile is legitimate and she knows it.

"Don't get too hopeful though... Snow will still do whatever he wants, but I'll certainly mention it to him. You are a little young, a friend the other day thought it was a bit weird how some fifteen year old was dating a twenty-eight year old. I think we'll have to wait one more year for you, Mr. Odair."

I lean over and plant an impromptu kiss on her lips, "Thank you," I pull back and look at her surprised but satisfied face. Those eyes look at me, the genetically modified ones, with something in them, "You really don't know how much it means to me."

Her face is still blushing when she reaches to stroke my hair, "You're different Odair. It's hard to hate you. And hearing you talk about Annie, it's even hard to hate her. It's like I said, you're _intoxicating_..." I watch her tongue lick her lips. I know it's now my cue to leave.

I head down to where they send me. The Capitol is so large I would never be able to navigate it alone. When I finally cross into the large building I am greeted by unfamiliar colorful people kissing me and patting me down with makeup. They sit me in a chair as they cover me with different products, actually this is the most product I've ever been doused in.

"Hello, Odair!" I hear a voice but I can't see the owner, I was instructed to keep my eyes shut or risk of getting blinded by whatever poison they're piling on me. He leans into my ear and I can hear a little hiss almost. The room is loud, I doubt anyone could pick up the words, "Do what I say, and it will all be okay for you."

I don't hesitate to even wonder if he is not one hundred percent correct – I know he is. I still have my eyes shut when I hear the people announce my transformation complete.

"There! He's done!"

"There won't be a person in the Capitol who won't love this trend."

I slowly open my eyes and look into a mirror facing me. I'm pretty sure all this time I've understood how mirrors work, they should hold my reflection. But instead of looking at myself I am staring back at someone with a similar facial structure but skin color of a tribute from District Eleven.

Dark brown, the only way to describe that color that slathers me, and it burns quite a bit. I can only hope this isn't permanent. I squint at my body, and notice that the color is everywhere, not just on my face but also on my fingers, my ears... sadly they didn't miss a spot.

My hissing friend returns, "There he is! Now that is what I am talking about! The bronze victor from District Four," He pauses breathing in with a hand holding his head before yelling at the top of his lungs, "I DID NOT TELL YOU TO PUT THAT PALM TREE THERE!" The voice surprises me and I am taken aback for a moment. But his head snaps back to me with a plastic looking smile.

"Right... come with me now, Mr. Odair." He holds his hand out as the corners of his mouth plaster in an upward motion. I move over by a large screen doused in a single shade of green. There is a very poor, sad looking palm tree leaning over. I don't know where to stand, some person moves me to an "X" in the middle of the floor.

A frantic mousy girl puts of tube of lotion in my hand, I recognize the golden color of the trident on the front. From this spot I can see myself standing in another TV but the green background has turned into an ocean front. I look ridiculous in it – my body is a burnt brown and you can hardly even tell who I am.

Another worker takes off my shirt and drapes a net of white over my body. I am given several directions, smile here, look there, say this. I try to follow them the best I can.

Then the director comes to me again. He moves my chin around and curses at my nose being too square in the corners, at this he openly questions about having it surgically fixed but thankfully decides against it. Then he points to some cards in the corner before going on and on about how careful I have to be when I read them. To supposedly produce a seductive purr for the camera if I can.

I swallow something in my throat... I don't think messing up and retaking this over and over is how people expect this to go.

I read the words, attempting not to sound too generic.

"After a long day on the beach I am thankful for my new color. Being a victor, I always strive for perfection and that goes for my glow as well – some might even say I'm a bit Finnicky," They zoom up on my face as I give an awkward wink. I then proceed to hold the product and talk about it, "Finnick's Tanning Creme is a new way for you, and yes I mean you!" I point at the camera and then give a hair flip. "To get the Finnick Odair Tan Look. Buy it today at your local beauty salon," They zoom in on my crotch, "I _know_ you want it."

"Cut!" I brace myself for the threats, the yelling... but am instead embraced by the hissing man,"You were..." Tears form in his eyes, "_brilliant_!"

"Excuse me," I recognize that voice and the director backs off to go celebrate the new commercial with his crew. It takes only a moment to look down and find the floppy bow staring at me. For some reason I respond to its company with a smile.

"Nice to meet again, Bex."

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><p><strong>Thank you for your continued support!<strong>


	15. A Strange People - XV

**Warning: homosexuality, sexual situation (near the end).**

* * *

><p>"Time to come with me Odair!" She gleefully bounces and takes my hand. The crew is sad to see me depart but a part of me really regrets being successful here today, it only means they'll want more later. Bex takes my hand and leads me to the street.<p>

"No car?"

"Pff, no, you're team doesn't even know I'm taking you."

I don't protest. This girl is oddly growing on me, she's half Capitol, half decent human being. When we turn around the corner she starts joking with me.

"Oh, I can't wait to buy your new product... I am a bit..." She gives the same hair flip I did in the recording, "Finnicky as well," We both laugh and she looks me over while attempting not to laugh, "We better get you washed up."

At least I am not the only one who finds it ridiculous.

We head over to a small side-shop and they are more then ecstatic to let the great Finnick Odair use their shower. Bex and I head into the bathroom. I am a little confused that she follows me right in, but I shrug, by now I know the Capitol Girls are different.

I step into the water as she takes off her shirt as well... maybe she is expecting something this time, she did say I owed her one. She stares at me as she catches my eyes on her bare breasts.

"I know, you don't like them Finn, it's not that big of a deal... but you don't have to look that disgusted by breasts!" She laughs and turns away as she scrubs her body. I do the same, watching the brown paint stain the shower and floor, a first little progress is made but with a couple of hard rubs my real tan finally begins to shine through. This girl continues to speak in riddles.

"So do you know what the deal was with Gemma?"

I whip my head around, splattering the walls with brown paint. What happened with Gemma?

"So you don't, well I figured with her trotting you around you might have heard something about it. They said she "committed suicide" today. I've interviewed that girl many times before and let me just say, I beg to differ."

My eyes grow wide, "Did Snow?" I take a few seconds to stop what I was about to utter, "I mean Gemma said earlier today she was going to go talk to Snow... I wonder if..." Bex shoots me a look.

"About what, what was she going to talk to him about?" She asks this in a nonchalant way and I know she wants details.

"I was just talking to her about maybe getting assigned less hours, and how I would prefer to not have so much sexual content as of now, you know, when I'm still so young like this."

Bex freezes. She just stands there as the water hits her, blinking a little before shaking her head vehemently, "I'm sorry, but you're an idiot."

"I'm sorry too, I didn't know any of this would happen. Gemma, she was your friend right?"

"Not so much friends, more like, I wouldn't tell anyone she was having work done on her face and body and she wouldn't tell anyone who I was spying on for news stories. We talked a lot, though. That girl must have been drinking one crazy drink when she decided to talk to Snow," She pauses, "Of course, you can't tell anyone we've been talking about this okay?"

I nod.

"Well, before I understood what had happened today, I was thinking about taking you out for some non-female action to ease your mind... are you still up for it?"

"Non-female?"

She giggles, "Right, you still have to play it up for the cameras, you know."

"Why not, alcohol might ease my mind a bit."

We walk through the streets as she mentions meaningless things about some of the people who frequent this dance "hotspot," as she describes some of the men she gives me playful winks and once we finally get there the winks finally make sense.

We enter the private dance club and it's clear there are no females besides the one next to me. Only men dressed in tight black clothes, dancing erotically are frequenting this part of town. I look down at Bex who is just beaming with accomplishment.

"You're welcome!" I can read her lips but it's hard to tell over the loud electronic music. One of the men shimmies over to me as Bex gets our drinks.

"Hey! victor!" He purses his lips as he touches my lower back, "Didn't know you were one playing for our team, not that I mind by any means." I give a frightened little smile.

Bex comes back with a glowing drink and I don't even care, I drink it in one large gulp. I want it to erase what ever happened to Gemma... erase the fear I have for those at home right now. My mind almost twitches at a memory but the alcohol kills it and I am free of inhibitions.

This drink in particular is strong and makes the room sway, but at least my body relaxes. My head feels light almost immediately, it gets to the point where it's hard to plant my footing. I stumble into the man from earlier.

"Well hey there, Odair!" His eyes give off a seductive glance, "Why don't we find somewhere more private?" He takes my hand but the alcohol is preventing me from protesting. I look to Bex for help but she only offers a big smile and thumbs up.

I am thrown on a bed of feathers that is attached to the club, it was obviously made for situations like this. If I thought wooing women in particular was hard I am clueless in this arena. I see the man, his body is hairy and rough and it's missing the smooth curves and soft features a woman's has. His bearded chin scratches my face as he leans in to kiss me.

"No. I can't do this," I try to move but the alcohol is making any thought coordinated to my actions impossible.

"Idontlikemenm..." I try to say, even though I know my speech is slurred. And yet the drink tickles something in the back of my head. What would it be like to do what I do with women to a man? I stop clenching my jaw and it relaxes as the man's tongue slips down my throat. The differences between a man's lips to a woman's is astounding. Thinner than imaginable, but so strong.

His large hands start caressing me. I feel like I have switched roles – that he is the man and I am the woman out of control of this particular act. This is how it must feel for the girls. I've lost all my resistance and have given in to this new feeling. The man roles my body over, so his chest sits on top of my back.

I look at the deep colors of the sheets and feathers as he removes my trousers. Up to this point I never thought two men could do anything together. _Up till this point_.

I feel a sharp pain in my lower back, though the alcohol masks most of the feeling I should get from this. The mattress bobs up and down along with my body and I finally start feeling everything that was numb before – I moan out in pain. It hurts, but doesn't bother me enough to stop it... I doubt I would even have enough energy to stop it.

A liquifying sensation courses through me and I grunt trying to preserve myself over the pain.

But as quickly as the sharp pangs come, they leave and I am turned over again and pleasured. I can feel myself getting more and more excited as the man's lips wrap around my crotch. Slowly his mouth moves up and down and I can feel my body and blood quicken as I let _it_ out. I notice the man has pulled away as I spew the sticky white liquid onto the bed.

I look up at him, actually pleasured by that last sensation. And as if we're in a drunken dream his eyes meet mine in the sultry light.

"You're a dirty boy Mr. Odair."

His body towers above me and I see his long intimidating organ dangling in front of me. I know what he wants and yet I've never been so frightened as I am now. I don't want to do this, but his hand reaches for my head and pushes me towards _it_. Its sliminess is the first thing that enters into my mouth. I am not sure what to do, so I use my tongue to explore the feature, as he had to mine.

I continue this for a while until the motion and object becomes familiar in my mouth, I begin to lick off the sweat caused be my previous saliva, it's sweet but at the same time salty. The top of his mushroom head leaks a thick egg like substance that starts to wash down the back of my throat. At first the salty liquid feels foreign, but now the new sensation washes into my mouth much quicker than before.

I am not sure if I should swallow it or not, but from the moans of the man I know exactly what it is. I pull away but not fast enough and it catches me to cover my nose. He pushes my face down again, but I turn away this time, feeling woozier than before and needing to find stabler ground.

"I'm... done..." My head is spinning... and pounding.

His hand touches my cheek in a gentle manner, much more pleasant than any of his other interactions with me, "You're adorable." I watch him pull his leather pants back on and saunter out to the dance once more. I feel another body on top of me and I know can't do this again, _no_. I can't even believe I did it once.

"Finn," the relief of a feminine voice is overwhelming, "Oh boy you are wasted... Let's get you to my place," I faintly hear her laughing as she helps me up, "I can't believe you did it with Grig Wash!"

Grig Wash, I know I've heard this name before... and it rings in my ears like another secret.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading!<strong>


	16. The Price - XVI

It hits me when I watch the news story, cuddled up in a blanket, just what has happened today. They show Gemma and a reporter spews false things about the struggles in her life to explain the suicide. They make sure to mention how distraught I am, even though no one has talked to me yet. Immediately after, they cut to a break used strategically to capitalize on my commercial.

I look absolutely horrible, and I can hear Bex cackling from her kitchen. Whatever she's making smells delicious, and it is reminiscent of a breakfast scent. In the commercial, my hair looks so gelled it seems fake, not to mention you can hardly see my actual face at all. I look just like a dark shadow. With scary white teeth, that are extra piercing when I smile.

Even my voice sounds mechanical, but I think that's how they wanted it. I noticed they enlarged the close up of my crotch as well with some form of technology... _great_.

I eat breakfast with Bex and decide that I need to at least visit Gemma's apartment to pick up my things.

There are cameras every where and I do a quick interview with several of them where I basically repeat the same words: how I never expected anything like this. They let me upstairs and the cameras no longer frequent the halls. Only small traces of blood and a white outline on the floor of her body give any sign that someone has died here. The people wandering around right now, taking notes, are not regular citizens. No, you can tell these people work directly for Snow.

I walk over to the outline. There's a letter by the hand, and I look at it closer because its addressed to some in a fancy lettering.

_Annie_.

Just one word on the envelope and I know it's for me. I grab it and tear it open, no one stops me, which makes me know it really is for me. My reading skills are horrible but even still I attempt to gather every single character.

_To the cherished victor, Finnick Odair,_

_Thank you for entertaining my dear friend Gemma. She was a lovely girl, wouldn't you agree? It's remarkable how manipulative your charm can be. I've heard lots of little stories... and for a while I will admit I was pleased. Until I gathered that you wanted a break. That you thought you were "too young" as it were. But I am generous man. I listen to my people. Now that our dear friend Gemma has passed I agree that you deserve a break. Her plan was quite humorous. You only working while mentoring. I must admit I chuckled. But people do love you don't they? Yes, and our friend Gemma had quite the large mouth... she loved other people's secrets. In short, I agreed that you will now only work while mentoring, or when we have special events planned. But look at what your selfishness has caused. Two people have taken their lives. Gemma and that lovely old lady who takes care of your dear little sister. It's a shame, the price your happiness costs. But one that must be payed, don't you think?_

_Snow_

Our friend also mentioned an adorable attraction you have for some young woman in your District. Let's hope she doesn't have an accident either.

The last line of the letter causes me to sink to the ground. I don't even understand most of the words, but that last line is all I need. I read over the entire letter several times trying comprehend it fully and my body starts shaking as more and more words become clear to me. The one person I never wanted to get involved, my only real friend – he now knows about her. And now who else is in trouble? A tear falls and dampens the letter. All because I dared ask for a less strict schedule Snow killed off a popular celebrity and my Nana Koa.

Why? I tried to do everything right, I know I did, I put all that effort in._ I did_.

I need to clear my head, but how can I go back home? Knowing that Nana Koa is gone, my sister and Mags are in trouble and... Annie, the sweet girl who has never done anything wrong, now she's in danger as well, and for no reason. Well, actually for one reason in particular, for being nice to me and finding a way into my heart.

I stand up, at least I know Snow's workers here won't find my anger and tears as shocking as the Capitol Citizens would. If I ever felt anything for that man at any other time it is now washed away and I am only repulsed and disgusted by the very mention of his name. An attendant comes over, to inform me my items were moved to the train and that I am permitted to return home. He wanted me to come up here though, but his intimidation does not phase me. The depression that hits is only from my loved ones being stripped of me... not because of what he does to me.

No more interviews are given, I don't smile when I pass people. Even once I am on the train and back in the District I don't give any sign of emotion. No one deserves my eye contact. I know Snow is watching and I want him to see how little all of this phases me. He will not get the satisfaction of my reaction, I'll save it for a time I know he won't get to see it.

Without even speaking to anyone my District leads me to the small hospital we have and quickly disperse... leaving me on my own. I must seem like a bad omen now, all the people surrounding me dying. There's a coffin in one of the rooms and even though I've prepared myself for this seeing it in person eats at me.

Tears try to break through the dam in my eyes as I see the gentle lady lying on a bed of flowers. The village loved her, she was everyone's confidant. She's a better human than anyone I know and now she is dead because of my mistake.

I shake my head as I swallow the ball of pain in my throat. Mags is sitting in a chair near her departed friend, I think all old people know each other. She frowns when she sees the lack of emotion I offer, but I need to stay strong – if she only knew who was watching. My nails dig into the palms of my hand as I turn to her, "How did she die?"

"Sleep," Mags whispers, her voice is getting softer as the days labor on. I'm not sure what disease is eating at her but it can't be good. My tears extinguish once I look at the woman's face, still strong, quiet... she died in her sleep – they could have done it a million ways but most likely they poisoned her, and I hope they did. I hope she didn't feel anything.

I let out a deep breath. I'm sure Snow is angry he isn't getting a reaction, but nothing will break this resolve now. I want him to see I'm strong, to see that I could care less what he does to me, to see I will always be fighting with him. An entire hour must pass of me sitting in the darkening room with my dead Nana Koa. There were so many more words we should have shared. Only a voice breaks me from my concentration.

"Finnick," I look for a moment and then turn away. It's some doctor woman in a lab coat, maybe she's been ordered to take me away, "I know you've been through an awful lot."

"Do they think I'm crazy yet? For not giving them the satisfaction of my emotions?" I let out a grunt of a laugh, maybe I won't have to play this game anymore if they lock me up in the nuthouse.

"No," She takes my hands, "First dear Nana Koa, then your poor lover," I try to figure out who she means by "lover" and realize it's Gemma. She continues, "It's a lot to handle and you're so young."

I nod in response. No one realizes the taxing effect these Games place on you after you've won.

"You see, it's your sister..." This time an emotion comes through me and I can't stop it... utter despair now heightens my sorrow. Snow would never. No one could be that cruel, and why? Because I didn't cry like he wanted me too? "You know the poor thing is sick. She was doing okay when we monitored her last, but now... we're not sure."

My breath starts heaving quicker and quicker but not out of sadness, no it's because never in my life have I hated a person as strongly as him... even if he didn't hurt Sedna he exacerbated it by eliminating Nana Koa, the only person who was trying to make her better. I eye a peacekeeper by the coffin watching me, waiting for my reaction. I will still not give them one.

"Will she get better?"

The lady covers her mouth and lets a few tears fall, clearly I've had an effect on her somehow... probably through my portrayal in the Games, "I'm so sorry, Finnick, we did what we could."

"Where is she?" I do my best to keep a smile and hold down my calm.

The doctor lady directs me to a separate room. Most people in Four have fairly good immune systems what with all the fresh air we receive, so these rooms are rarely ever full unless an outbreak of typhus or malaria.

Immediately I hear the pumping noises of several machines. The room comes off as dark and cold, though this could just be what I feel. My young sister, wrapped in a blanket that only reveals a frail face breathing unsteadily. I grab her small hands and feel tears that have been brewing inside of me just for this particular pain... this true pain – because I knew she was never going to last long, but she's all I have and when I look in her small green eyes I see my own, and I see the happiest life we could have shared together.

"Will she come out of it?" I don't dare to let my eyes depart from her chest as I ask questions to the room.

I get no answer, no one has the guts to tell me. No one except my sister's heart monitor, the machine that uses it's beeping to warn me when the time is coming, and all it does is beep slower... and slower.

The selfish man inside of me wants her to open her eyes, if only for a second, just so I can see her sea green beauty once more in all its glory. There are so few truly innocent people on this earth and I can't bear to see her lose her life over me, who deserves to die more than anyone.

A deep mustering of anger boils inside of me and even am I am left to figure out who to direct it at, perhaps the world, the Capitol, all of Panem... even myself... any of these indecent figures will do. And now emotion guides my action, the reaction Snow wants is here and all I can do is weep for the girl who was too young, for the woman who helped raise us both.

The beeping noise stops. My sister's breathing stops. And I know my own heart stops as well.

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><p><strong>Reviews are appreciated!<strong>


	17. Stranded - XVII

Nothing works anymore, my grief is too great to pull out of. All I can do is feel, and feel I do. A head of soft, sandy hair buries itself into my chest but I have no energy to acknowledge it. I don't know how long I stay in this trance, where I feel like I am dreaming this horrible nightmare that I cannot wake from. My body goes from the motion but there is no energy for me to put into them.

I can hear things, they're foggy, but so is everything I see, everything comes in from an opaque lens used to hide the truth from me. Slowly more sounds become noticeable, some waves in the distance and now I understand that the rock I once felt in my numb hand is just someone else's fingers. And yet I still can't snap out of it.

Days must be passing, but every minute of my life is occupied with images of those who I've killed – both intentionally and unintentionally. Every single person. All I can do is watch them die, over and over again. I don't even recognize some of the faces that haunt me.

But there's something else.

A little mumbling that I can't quite make out. And slowly and slowly my mind is consumed with trying to comprehend that one little voice. What is it saying, and what does it mean? When it starts it sounds like a little bee, buzzing around by my head and when I focus on trying to listen to it the images stop and my body almost relaxes.

The people and horrors stop flashing in my mind and I find myself just staring into a bright white light. And I hear that voice and the ocean surrounding me, two people who love me, both calling to me.

Then I grasp it. I find it and take hold of it, not even thinking to let it go. I open my eyes, at first this proves difficult since they seem to be crusted shut from the sorrow that has consumed me. I take everything in, one breath at a time. There is an ocean in front of me, sand nests between my toes, the salty breeze off the water fills my nostrils, the yellow sun lights up the world, and... and a soft hand sits entwined with mine.

"Finn?"

"Annie..."

I feel arms thrown around my neck and tears collapse onto my cheeks, they are not mine, they are hers. She cries for me as her voice cracks with an overjoyed happiness.

"Finnick!" She holds my face in her hands and looks at me, her eyes dart happily around at every feature noticing that I am in fact alive and back in her arms. How long had she waited for me?

Without letting any other emotion guide me I lean into her pure face and plant my lips on top of hers. This is the first time they've ever touched since the day I saved her life, and it feels right. She gives in and we fall into the sand our hands wrapping around one another. We are entangled in one another's grasps and I doubt either of us will bring ourselves to be the first to break away. No, we continue to press our passion into each other – and through all my sorrow I finally feel happy.

"Finn, I was so worried," She chokes on the words as tears continue to overpower her. Eventually I need to pull away from her mouth, out of fear she might suffocate.

"Did you really wait for me, Annie? All this time... on the beach," Her face now begins to blush all the way up to her ears. I attempt a laugh and pull her in closely, fitting her into my lap like an extended part of my own body.

She shakes her head and plays with her hands, "I know you'd do it for me, Finnick..."

"You know what, Annie? You're amazing, the most amazing person I've ever met," and I mean it full-heartedly. I doubt I would be here, sane like this, without her. She's the single reason I have left to live that I can still latch to. Only a mermaid, or someone with incredible powers, could have pulled me out of the depths of the ocean that I found myself drowning in within my own mind.

"You're just in time for the next Hunger Games too," her voice is departed now and I can tell she's trying to keep off the subject, "The village was worried you wouldn't be well enough to mentor – to bring home another one of our children..."

I pull a loose strand of hair and tuck it behind her ear, "Don't worry about me, Annie. I'll do whatever needs to be done, and I'll come home safe..." the next words escape me, "I'll come home to you."

"Oh, Finnick..." Her mouth is still open but and she struggles to get then next words out – but I know what they are. After all this time I know exactly how this girl works.

"I love you." I finish for her.

I want to hold onto this moment forever, never depart from her safe arms, or let her leave my own. The only place where both of us are safe from harm is in each other's arms. And I will never let Annie go. No one will ever take her from me – I would die a second time over to keep her safe and sound.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	18. The Mentor - XVIII

By this point in my life everything blends together, conversations, meals, days themselves... but now I am shuffled onto the platform outside our square and introduced as the new mentor for the male tributes (since most of the other male victors are too incapacitated to move at this point). I try not to connect eyes with Annie as she stands in the thirteen year old section, her birthday is coming up and I wish it was before the Games each year so it would seem as if she was aging out of this mess quicker. I stand tall in front of the cameras and it feels particularly weird putting my fake persona back on after my break where I got to be the "real" me.

Thomps and I smile as if nothing has happened to me these past years and we joke about the Games. I wonder if we'll have any careers this year, it'd sure make my life easier – it seems possible since more kids might be enthused to keep a winning streak since I won last Games. I don't even know where to start on mentoring a kid. I won the games by being _beautiful_... how will others handle it?

I watch Thomps move over to the jar with the female names, he flicks one out. At the last moment before the name leaves his mouth I pray it isn't Annie.

"Dekada Jubilee!" He looks around and there is a part being made by the girls in the seventeen year old division. She's a tall but plain girl who snakes her way out to the front to Thomps's outstretched arms,"Come come dear!" She reminds me of Nicky, offering little emotion to the cameras but probably saving a storm for later.

"Jakson Yish!" The boy, not a horrible face but a bit scrawny. I recognize his name too, a few years ago our fathers fished together so we were sometimes on the boat together, but when his old man died he moved out into the mainland with his mother and I haven't seen in the time since. As if praying for a volunteer he waits a moment, but no one moves so he is forced to move up to the front with Dekada.

They get their allotted time to speak and families wait outside, some noticing me, others not. Mags waits beside me and a few minutes before their final goodbyes must be said we move on to the train. I have little to say, but Mags seems content with my silence so I move to the string of rope I've kept with me and begin playing with it.

"Hey," I offer a head nod to the pair as they enter onto the train. Both their faces light with awe as they are exposed to the splendor of the Capitol. They each take a seat in front of Mags and I and no more words are shared – this feels awkward... like I'm in the wrong spot, though I suppose this will be "right" from now on.

"And how will you keep us alive?" The girl asks, breaking the tension and jumping right into things. I search her eyes for tears and find none, she must be a bit mentally prepared at least and her eager attitude might come in handy later.

"Well, we will do our best to help you get sponsors, but the first order of business would be to develop your characters and figure out how you'll survive once everything starts."

"Characters?" She is blind, like most, as to how the Games and the Capitol actually work.

"No, you probably don't even need a character. Finnick hates me so you'll get all the sponsor from him. He'll make sure I die," Jakson smirks over at me with dissatisfied grunt.

It is an interesting feeling, to have the power over this boy's life and death... though I could never bring myself to inflict anything like that on someone else. The Games are something I wouldn't even wish on my own enemy. Jakson and I go back, for sure, and he was one of the cruelest people – especially with the names and words he spat my way. But I won't let anything like that sway me in my pursuit. I am supposed to keep these kids alive and hopefully have one of them win.

"I would never do that and Mags and I will treat you both equally. We don't want to see anyone from District Four die."

"So what should I do? Take off my shirt and wave my body in front of a camera like the great Adonis from District Four?" His grin is cheeky and I need to physically hold back the salty taste that his words leave in my mouth.

"No, neither of you could really be my character... Maybe we could -"

Now his laugh is loud, "Why? Because I'm not _good looking_? Because I am not like the godly Finnick Odair?"

Is that how the TV portrays me? I guess it shouldn't surprise me that I come off cocky and pretentious, that's the Finnick the Capitol wants.

I shake my head, trying to diffuse this conversation, "You have to let me finish, Jakson because I really am trying to help you. You can't be my character because do have you ever seen how I actually act back home, do you think I really act like I do for the cameras all the time? They just want their show and it's your job to give it to them."

"Well, I've only ever noticed you with that weird girl," Dekeda points this out and I want to hate her for it.

"She's not weird! She is the sweetest girl in the whole world, no one deserves her!" I notice Thomps staring at me as Mags pulls on my pant leg. Then my mind jumps to the Peacekeepers in the room over. And the hidden cameras filming everything in the cabin. I sit myself back down.

"It doesn't matter, we have to get this sorted out while we can," I take a deep breath, "what are you good at Dekeda?"

And then it begins the conversation turns to the Games and only the Games – no old grudges or memories but their survival. I tell them how things will work and we try to figure out the best strategy. Mags stays up with me in the night to plan out who is best with what. We decide to get Jakson focused on his personality and tell him to come off as cockier than he really is – sometimes this works well. Dekeda is strong willed but her skills are nonexistent, back in Four she only ever helps her mother wash clothes. We're going to have her go for the "girl-next door" story.

They receive no extra help from Noqall even though I've talked to her and the other designer for Four, but the style still doesn't fit either of them – their bronze skin and brown eyes look bland against the other tributes. This is partly my fault since the Capitol trend at the moment is my tanning lotion and most of the people walking around are the same color which means the pale tributes stand out in a better way.

Every morning I wake up with them, Mags has warned me not to get too attached just in case, but still I encourage them at every chance I can. Dekeda ends up receiving a six, with Jakson coming in with a seven.

That night at dinner I try to ask them what they did while in the training center and both of them inform me that they skipped most of the survival skills and mostly went straight for weapons... which explains why their scores are higher but doesn't help to put my conscience at ease with how they'll fare in the actual Games. I try to keep myself calm and not get them worried – how did Mags put up with all the stupid things Nicky and I did?

Their interviews are fairly unpopular as well and it's obvious District Four has generic tributes this year. But since I am last year's winner, Caesar acts a little more interested in them and there's still at least a spark of interest from the Capitol.

Over the week both have become incredibly scared even though I try to distract them and make their numbered days a little easier. I hate all of this though. It was so much easier being a tribute as odd as that sounds. Their lives are now in my hand, I need to pick one over the other and this kills me... I never signed up to play master.

It's weird being sat in the Mentor's Room. It's a tall building with lots of TVs broadcasting different areas of the arena and big computers surrounded by high grade electronics. I pass District One and Two and find District Four. There's a long red lounge chair set up for me with a cool box filled with drinks and food. I have a large TV labeled with a "Four" on it as well focused on two different plinths where I assume my tributes will start on.

Next to the TV is a smaller one that looks like it will broadcast the entire Games. It is also coupled with an electronic map laid on a desk that starts blinking as the tributes begin being injected with their trackers. I sit in the high black chair and spin around, Mags is off talking with some people so I'm here alone. And I'm not quite sure what I am supposed to do.

An announcement broadcasts that the tributes are nearing their pods and my stomach starts tightening with nerves. I hear a friendly knock on the door, I open it and find Mags standing with a man in his mid-thirties, his skin is dark but not because of my tanning cream. It's the missing arm that instantly gets me to recognize him as Chaff, the 45th victor from District 11.

He lays on my lounge chair and pulls out a dark liquor tucked within the confines of his shirt, "How you doing, Mags mentioned she wanted to take a nap and that you would need some company. Congrats on winning," He smiles after looking at his bottle once more.

My eyes refuse to leave the bottle until I make the connection, "You and Haymitch must be friends, huh?"

His laugh is loud and echoes in the room, "Of course we are... damn drunkard is the only one who's ever up for a pint... unless," he offers me the bottle in a cautious but humorous manner.

"I promise I will some later time, and I appreciate it... but right now, since the Games are on, I'd like to keep my head clear," I decide to join him on the couch now, though. Occasionally I'll look up to the screen monitors in anticipation and I notice him mocking me.

"Finnick, you can't help it. The Reaping doesn't always sew a good crop," his metaphor is clever, since he's from the agricultural District 11, but it ends up leaving a sour taste in the room.

I shake my head, still refusing to give in, "Can't I help them in some way though? Am I really just supposed to give up?"

He looks at the glass, ignoring my eye contact, "No, I doubt you could do much. When they first carted me out here I didn't have much in ways of strategy either, and you're young. There's always a better way to play a kid, sexy, funny, strong, scary, caring, the options are endless. Each year you'll pick up a bit more, but I can tell you these kids won't last," he chuckles offering me the drink again, "might as well make a toast of the night right now!"

His comment is ignored and I only take in the words of advice, "I really did try, to help them... Mags was there too and she never added to the knowledge I gave."

"The difference is that you are smart. It doesn't matter how much you tell a kid not to run to the Cornucopia, if they don't have basic fight or flight senses they won't make it far. I mean sure, you could get them sponsors – being you – but I wouldn't bother. They're as good as dead, just like mine this year, and Haymitch's and Macon's and... well, you get the idea, someone has to die in the Bloodbath."

My skin crawls as the countdown sounds off above us.

Chaff lets out a heavy breath as he moves up from the couch, keeping his grip tight on the bottle,"Try to not let it phase you, Finnick. All you can do for now is to hope for a better year and hell, if you're up for it Haymitch and I are planning on drinking away our livers tonight and you're free to join us."

With that he stumbles out of my room and leaves the automatic door to close on its own. I have to steady myself because even if it is pointless to hope, it's all I have and its been making me anxious all day – not as anxious as the tributes out there though. My TV is blares commentary by several personalities as the Games's countdown lowers to smaller digits. Number by number. It must seem like I've never seen a Hunger Games before, even though I've seen them all my life. Well, to be fair, I guess I have never seen a Hunger Games like this... where people's lives are counting on me.

Five. Four. Three. Two.

_One_.

It's madness, and it's hard to watch these Games... to relive every moment through the eyes of every child on that field. The Career from One manages to decapitate a boy from Seven with a wide set of arrows that fly quicker than the kid has to get off the plinth. I watch in amazement as the Career girl from Two refuses to get weapons and instead immediately runs around twisting the necks of people in hand to hand combat.

Distracted by the others, by the good ones, I forget my own tributes but quickly spot them. Jackson runs towards a spear, he knows how to fish so this weapon makes sense, but it leans on the side of the Cornucopia so he is blind as to who lurks around him. A hulking girl from District Ten leaps around and with a butchers knife tries to lop away at him. My heart beats quicker as the conflict intensifies.

I know Jakson's stance well, the one I too take to spear a fish. He backs up but there is little soft ground in the muddy pits of the arena. The spear leaves his hand but it only pierces the girl's liver, nothing too vital for now. With his weapon now essentially lodges in his opponent he takes to running but the girl catches him and brutally begins chopping him to bits. I turn off the screen.

It takes a moment to steady my hands but I close my eyes, I hated that kid but never in my life would I wish these Games on my worst enemy. Never. To think he died within ten minutes terrifies me, how many more people will I need to send off in that short amount of time? How many years will it take until I am desensitized enough like Chaff and can laugh these Games off like nothing.

After a while I know I should be paying attention and I click the TV with my tributes back on, it only shows one person now and I watch Dekada as she runs through the swamps, she takes a smart route through the brush, heading in to the higher brush to conceal her movements. The mud that slips across the arena makes it difficult to track footprints which could aid her in the long run.

A few hours pass and the screen in front of me, which also has labeled the odds for the betters, blinks with eight tributes dead. I feel so utterly useless just sitting here watching, so I try to observe. Plants are spread throughout the arena, many of which the tributes start to pick off and eat. Water is also not a huge problem, though it is a dark brown, murky type that many tributes grudgingly drink. Both of these elements, though, start causing the tributes to react, some start scratching their flaking skin, others find their eyes water while a few moan with pain. Quite a number who have picked at the foliage or drank from the water find their skin starting to blister and bubble. It's disgusting and it only takes an hour for the rubbed area to fall off completely, limbs and all.

Even from my District's Chamber I can hear the shouts of other mentors as they beg their sponsors for the serum to help their tribute – but it's pointless. The Gamemakers have jacked up the price of the serum far too much and now only the best of the best can afford it.

Dekada, luckily, catches on to this – she's a rather smart girl, though she did tell me she spent a long time at the edible plants station since she felt it was the safest one. She stays clear of the leafy foliage others have fallen prey to. Perhaps she _can_ get farther.

There's a knock on the door and then it slides open.

"Oh, look, he still has one!" It's Chaff.

"My my, quite the mentor huh?" And Haymitch. Both great me with fistfuls of alcohol.

"Well, we thought we could have the party in your place, anyways," Chaff grins widely as he sets down some questionable bottles with peeled off labels.

I roll my eyes, but they don't mean harm, "Why not, boys?"

After several hours of watching the screen and letting the others do what they want their voices get louder. It all starts, really, when Haymitch smashes a bottle onto Chaff's head, "Watch it!" He yells as he hits Haymitch back with his good arm.

"Want a drink Finny?" Haymitch's speech is slurred as he offers me the liquor, both of them are gone from this world now.

"Not right now, I have to watch out for -"

And then it happens. It happens so quickly I almost miss it, a frog, one little creature... it sticks its tongue to Dekada's leg for a mere second and she falls over dead. I don't know how to process it and I can't help but thinking of Annie – Annie who would have a consoling answer to all of this.

A bottle is thrown into my lap and now with the mixed feelings of my tributes' deaths and Annie on my mind I open it without hesitation. By the end of the hour each of us is drunk, so drunk we can't tell our right from our left.

"I mean, really? What's the point of fish when no one eats them? Right?" Chaff is spewing out nonsense but it seems so funny to me and I can't stop laughing. I lay on top of them both as we sprawl over on the couch, all I can do at this point is stare up to the ceiling and continue my heckling.

"Wanna know something?"

"What?" Haymitch burps.

"Starfish, aren't even fish." I picture the odd creature in my mind and try to paint it out with my hands as if this might help the other two sitting beneath me.

"Are you serious?" Chaff spits a swallow of brandy from his mouth as he utters this.

"Yea, really... they're _like_ fish but instead they're..."

"Stars." Haymitch finishes.

"Yep."

"Yea."

"Uh-huh."

And then I think we all fall asleep, I am aroused by a man in a black suit and through the splitting headache I eye my companions with confusion as they snore loudly on my couch. Then I remember my deal with Snow. I wonder for a moment in the heat of the sad Games and my still buzzed attitude what would happen if I just said "no" to the man in charge... And then I think seriously about it. And then I think about Annie.

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	19. Love - XIV

It is the start of my life. A continuous circle that life forces me to revolve around, and I never get a break. Another victor is crowned for the 66th, 67th, 68th, and 69th Hunger Games. Every year I am roused from happiness in order to watch a new girl and boy be reaped. Sometimes there's a volunteer, and we came very close to winning in the 68th Games but there is never a winner for our District in my four years. Every single child I "mentor" dies. Some less painfully then others.

Every single one of them, though, have faces that I can never shake; faces that haunt me in my dreams that are more nightmares now than anything. Maybe there have been a few good nights over the years but they are overshadowed by the bad ones.

I put my time into the Capitol. I do their commercials, their promotions, their birthday parties. No longer am I human or a victor but rather a prize for the rich to throw around... and all I get to do is go through the motions as if I enjoy them – never can my smile rest.

There are some perks, however, it's on these painful days in the Capitol that I get to delve into the secrets of this hidden world. Into the conspiracies that lace the fabric of Panem's world together.

Annie is the only saving grace of this continuous motion of my life. She is the reason I push through the sex, the self-absorbed persona of the Capitol, because she is the only reason, now, that I have to go home – besides Mags of course, but usually the old lady is with me every step of the way. It's Annie that is my relief from the Games, the one face I know that will never force me to think of death and killing or killing and death. We grow close only for our arms to be ripped of each other on the occasion I must return to the Capitol and pay my price. My price for winning.

To continue the circle, it is every six months that I return to meet more like me, more victors trapped into a world that is inescapable. I was once a new face but now am a familiar one, seen only with the Capitol's finest and desired by most if not all in some fashion. I'm not the only one who goes through this, all the ones who are exotic, pretty or thin go through the same hands. Only I know for fact Snow sees to it personally that my loyalty is in check and I see more than anyone.

It's true that Annie gets me through these years the most, but it does help me mentally to gather those secrets on Panem's beloved leader. Never once in the past four years have I taken an ounce of money from a buyer – only ever their secrets. And with every secret I get, every juicy detail they persuade me to swallow, I grow to loathe him even more. The more I know about _him_, the more despicable _he_ becomes.

I've been well aware for a while now that in just six months that always seem to rush by, the 70th Hunger Games will begin. I sit on the beach of District Four and stroke out Annie's hair. We've been swimming today, like we always do and now are resting... trying to find peace in the maelstrom that is my life.

"We should live in the ocean, Finn."

Her innocence makes this world worth living, "Why's that Annie?"

"Because it's our real home," she giggles in a girlish voice, "Don't laugh at me but I had a dream about it last night... you and I were under the water in this vast kingdom, never once did we need to come up for air. It's fitting for you since you _are_ the King of the Sea, after all." She giggles again as I nestle my nose into her nest of hair, smelling the very ocean she speaks of within the strands. We sit quietly before her voice picks up again, "Do you think that dream will ever come true?"

"One day, Annie. When it's all over."

"When what's over?"

I want to tell her when the world finally gets its act together and quits these inhumane Games... but I don't say this, nor would I ever. Doing so would put both of us in the mouth of great danger.

Since I don't answer she knows to change the subject, this happens often when we get on a touchy subject about the Games or what goes on in the Capitol. She easily sways it to a more lighthearted manner, "You know, Finnick, my brother has been getting mad at you. He says you're no good."

A smile widens on my face, "What are you talking about? Him and I are great friends and I know for fact your mother loves me."

Annie shakes her head, having none of it, "Oh _she_ does love you. She thinks you're good for me, _a real man_ she says. But my brother, Finnick, he gets angry when you keep me out like this, he thinks I need to find someone different to love."

"Someone different to love that is not the Great Finnick Odair?" I feign surprise and I can feel her body grow warm with a blush.

She turns to me and falls to the sand between my legs, "I'm a lucky girl aren't I?"

"Well," I lean down and kiss the top of her nose, "I'm a pretty lucky guy myself."

Annie lets out a deep sigh as she closes her eyes in pure delight. I watch her delicate fingers trace figures into the sand, the first being a shapely heart. In it I observe her drawing four characters that accompany the first design.

_F. O._

_A. C._

Now it's my blush that can't be contained and I effortlessly hoist her up onto my lap once more, pressing our lips into one another. I feel selfish for taking this passion so easily where others may not find it... but after years of heartless kisses in the Capitol these lips of Annie's that are chapped by the sun and salty from the air are the only lips I truly love. We lean into each other and I hold onto her as if at any moment she might be taken from me.

I don't want to pull away, but I do. No matter how good either of us are at holding our breath under water, kisses exert far too much energy and require frequent breaks to breathe. She falls onto my chest and I take her hair once more before watching the sun set with her still body wrapped around mine. Eventually the time forces me to take her hand.

"Let's go back to my place, Annie."

Everything feels right... and I feel for the first time in my life that this is perfection. That through all the hardships, wrongs and struggles that I have done something correct and that was finding Annie... or letting her find me. Even the air tonight tells me it's right, that its soft and dim tone mean she is the right one. The sea lapping at my feet is only a subtle reminder amongst the other elements.

The Victor's Village is barren, with most of the old victors out by the tavern docks for the new import of rum. Annie's hand wraps around mine, tighter, as I push through the doors and lead her up my stairs to the lavish bedroom I find little peace in. Her feet crunch with sand on the marble floor and jokingly I pick her up into my arms, as if a doll, and carry her to the bed.

Her blush must now be permanent as both of us feel the inner stirrings of want and desire for whatever act we about to commence in. She breathes deeply, as do I, while I lean into her and feel her tangled hair between my fingers.

"Oh Finn." She moans, and this is all it takes. I quickly undo the shorts and kick them off in one go only to find her sit up in shock and fully aware of the moment, "Where did you learn to do that, Finnick?"

The embarrassing moment is captured on my face, I usually try to hide the fact that sex is not a new frontier for me, but even if I had the right words I could never fully tell her how I've learned to strip so readily – how the hundreds of men and women in the Capitol who have hungered for me have made sure I know this simple action.

In my silence she catches the answer.

We fall back into the soft motion once more, as she allows me to lightly remove her of the constricting fabrics. My hands are calloused from years of net binding and fishing so her soft skin always entrances me. Every touch we share in our hungering moments causes me to become more and more lustful of this woman. I remove my shirt and notice the moon has crept in through the window positioned to stare out to the ocean. She stares up at me and my sculpted body as I look down at her and note how the shadows the moon casts illuminates her bare breasts.

She is so natural, pure... human. Unlike the girls of the Capitol her skin isn't blue or yellow – it is bronze and healthy. Her hair is not suffocated into a bun or dyed several shades of purple, it is instead brown and untamed as a woman who loves nature's gifts would have it. The male instinct inside of me then observes her body and all of its perfect imperfections – scars painted on from jagged rocks and bad dives, freckles kissed on by the sun across her shoulders and a body which is not molested by plastic but rather thick with skin in certain areas and tight with swimmer's muscle in others.

_I love Annie_. And its one of the clearest statements of truth I know in this life. Nothing will change this bond or ever threaten to sever it. Her eyes flicker down from mine in the moonlight and embody the timid nature of her being. I know this is her first time and I remember my own – hers will be nothing of the sort.

It is strange to touch her in ways like this, to lay on top of her for a moment only to be terrified of moving again. My heart begins to beat quicker, afraid for a moment that she might collapse in my hands or break. So for a moment we just sit like this, with her eyes looking into mine. The green of her sea staring into the green of mine. I let her take the next move and she chooses to reattach our separated lips. Our mouths connect and our hands move for the first time, exploring the new, bare areas of the other.

With as much care as I can muster I look to her and take hold of the freckled shoulders, placing my hardened self into her. She yelps and I immediately intend to pull out but her eyes instead look to mine, begging for a continuation.

I bite my lip with anticipation as I share this uniting gift of love with my Annie, slowly in a motion like the waves I begin to bob up and down... it is a pumping that begins to pick up speed as she eases in to the new sensation.

Her body heaves and makes noises I have never heard it utter before. They are so foreign that I want to stop, to give back her innocence, afraid I am corrupting my sweet little Annie. But she lets me know this is not true. With the tug of my hair she asks for this to continue, for us to no longer treat our love as younger children might.

Everything gathers together inside of me and it courses through me like the most satisfying thing in the world. My climax begins to near as we take turns sharing our love within one another. I can sense my own arousal brimming to the top as I continue to quickly exert myself into her, being positive at every second that she is enjoying this as well.

"Oh Annie," the words whisper to my lips as I let the sensation wash over me.

At some point we stop, I don't even know when... but it seems timeless lying next to her during the hours that pass, her head laid on my pillow and her body wrapped in my arms. I don't even know if we sleep, but we lie like this, and nothing can take this moment away from me.

Sun drips into the room and we near the same point of our sleep cycle where our eyes open up. We never shared a single word about what we had done during the night and that precedent has lasted to the morning hours. Instead without an exchange of words we know we are one, and I lean over to awaken her with a shower of kisses.

"Finnick..." her voice is quiet but humming with some sort of delight.

"Yes?"

Even in the little sun that peeks in to the room her cheeks seem glowing with a red ember. She nudges herself closer to my chest as if afraid to meet eyes with me, "I-I really..." she lets out a slight laugh, "I really love you so much."

I hold her closer, if it's even possible and talk into her hair, "Annie, you have no idea how much you mean to me. I want to be with you forever."

"Hey, Finn?" I can barely hear the voice, "Will you eat dinner over at my house today?"

My voice is inaudible as well as I tangle it in the web of her hair, "Of course I will, Annie."

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	20. Rough Waters Ahead - XX

There's nothing to do, especially on a Saturday, in District Four. There's no school in session which means Annie is free, but of course this also means the innocent faces of children will be free to run around and taunt me with memories of death. Most of the fishermen will not return until tomorrow, Sunday, as today is their last day of voyage. Even the square will be on its own little siesta, sleeping in late and awaiting the Sunday that signals the arrival of new shipments (besides, naturally, the rum that comes in on its own schedule).

It must be noon by the time Annie and I actually untangle from our snare of a bed. This is typical of Four, if we don't have anything to do then it is a day reserved for sleep because so much of the rest of the week is devoted to work. I suppose some traders will come in today, from the mainland, offering a few slabs of cattle or pig which might be fun to see what other small goods they bring to share. But for some reason I fear leaving this house will mean Annie and I can never return, even though this fear is unfounded.

I head downstairs to start cooking lunch, leaving her to wash up on her own. I figure we'll have grilled mackerel. I never hunger for food and I never have, but being a victor now I get first pick of the food that is either shipped or baked fresh. My fingers move quickly on the fish, his body is cooled by the icebox that only the richest in the Districts can afford to own – I count myself lucky. Almost like liquid I slide the knife through its skin and slice off skin and bones.

As I heat up a pan on the stove with some drops of oil a ring sounds off from the door. Annie comes gliding down the stairs wearing one of the dresses she keeps in my house (the simple, yellow one) like the whole thing were planned. She leans up beside me, taking the pan as I leave to open the door.

"It's probably just Mags," I say this to no one, only to fill in the mystery behind the door. And it is very likely that it _is_ my mentor, since she stops by often to talk and be around Annie and I.

But it's not Mags.

It's a man who must be reflecting light itself, hair so full of gel that it gleams of a pure white. He enters without my permission but one look would tell you he's from the Capitol. As if the actual owner of the home he walks into my living room, taking note of the sweet humming from the kitchen.

"Mr. Odair, you were supposed to report to the Capitol several hours ago and have failed to meet that arrangement. I am here now to collect you and bring you to your appointments."

Only now do I remember the "arrangement" he speaks of, but it's already too late. I can tell Annie has stopped humming, to try and hear what I talk about now, but I keep my voice soft and the hiss of the stove encourages the thought that she won't be able to make out whatever is being said.

Part of me is ready to go – but this is the trained part. Annie's proposal from this morning comes back to me and I am left at a crossroad of the two roles I play. Which mask will I wear today? The humming picks up again, and I can't help it, I know how her heart would be were I to be sent away so soon, "I am not going today, tell the _appointments_ I have a family conflict today and will see to them when I return for the 70th Hunger Games. You can tell Snow that I personally said this."

"I'll be sure he gets the message," the man cocks an eyebrow but either way his face is still like liquid, "But you see Mr. Odair, some action must be taken... I think it would be best to take you."

"I already said no, I have my own _appointment_ today. Snow can reschedule," I say this in a harsh voice and though I am angry I don't mean it to come out so angrily, though I don't regret it either. In the end, though, this statement symbolizes the end of our conversation.

I know what saying "no" will do, it will get me more people to pleasure, harsher time in the Capitol and more jobs to mill over. But as long as I have Annie in my reach, as long as she is closer to me than to him then there is no way he can take her from me. And at the end of the day, by this point, I don't care how much extra work I get; in the end he will punish me and not her, because he knows if he were to kill her it would be over and I would refuse everything.

We prepare the last parts of our meal, each taking turns seasoning, cutting and cooking. I have a small porch hanging off the back of the house with a great white swing that can hold several people. This is where I offer to take our lunch. And it's wonderful. We laugh about people in town, Old Rick the sea captain and his supposed case of scurvy, Merian a school friend of Annie's who is supposedly sneaking animals to school and of course I throw in a few stories of my own about people in the Capitol.

She holds the fork up to my mind, with a bite size slice of the mackerel on the end, "Open wide," she teases as I follow her orders. Our legs swing out in front of us and the sun that hits directly us isn't hot but instead refreshing. Once more we curl up together before I note the time and its proximity to a normal dinner hour.

Annie walks back inside, quickly preparing a dessert for her mother. She prefers to cook here in my home claiming all my appliances and foodstuffs are the best, which is probably true. I prepare some of my own meals here but usually Annie and I are out in town eating or picnicking on the beach. Anything that's homemade is better than the pristine food of the Capitol. Perfection is overrated.

The sweet girl I've fallen for cheers for glee when she opens the cold box, "You have another pineapple! Finnick, you always have the best ingredients!"

I smile, "Only the best from the Capitol."

As she finishes wrapping up her cakes I sit in front of the TV, there's a mandatory broadcast tonight and it only makes sense to go out after its finished airing. Annie snakes in around to my lap as I pick up a rope on the table next to me and start playing with it.

The anthem plays and all it is is the District Thirteen taping they show every now and again, a documentary starring the late Gemma Wulls. Bombs fall, Capitol actors pretend to scream in the reenactment of events. I continue knotting the rope having watched this before already.

"Finnick," Annie begins over the broadcast, I'd turn down the sound but during mandatory viewings the TVs don't let you, "Why do you always play with that rope?"

"It relaxes me."

Her hands lift up my face as she touches it shyly, "You seem tense, what is it?

"Nothing, Annie," but she isn't buying it. And I wouldn't either, even though I'm a trained actor the words come out so unconvincingly. There are just so many things that can never be explained to her, never understood by her. Like why this taping with Gemma bothers me and how deathly afraid I am about the consequences of my refusal.

She leans in to kiss me, still not swayed by my words... but the kiss justifies why I've stayed and why all of this matters. But it soon comes to consume me and I need some way to erase it from my mind.

"Let's go to your mothers?" I ask, changing the subject for my own good.

We walk through the wound neighborhoods of Four, Annie's house isn't too far from the school building and it sits nicely among the other small sea cottages. I love her house, it reminds me of how nice my old one once looked before its occupants were all driven apart. We are welcomed inside by her enthusiastic mother. She holds me with a long hug and I notice even her brother has come out to visit.

"Hey Ken," I greet him with a smile as I pat him on the shoulder.

"Are you treating my sister well?" He jokingly asks as we embrace.

We sit at the wooden dining table as the Cresta's begin to share their amazing hospitality. These people are so different from the type I am forced to consort with, they actually laugh at some of my terrible jokes as we go on to talk about silly things. They are obsessed with the Capitol and the commercials they see on TV for items they will never be able to afford.

During some point in the meal the conversation takes a different turn, right after I talk about Annie cooking the mackerel today. Her mother drops her silverware and eyes me playfully, "And tell me again, when are you going to marry my daughter, Mr. Odair?"

The question takes me by surprise and I begin to blush. Annie covers for me and with mouth agape hits her mother's shoulder while scolding her for being rude. Ken in turn eyes me carefully but with a smile hidden by his glass of juice.

"Don't answer it Finn," she looks over to her mother accusingly, "my mom is just trying to scare you."

"Well, he has all those lovely women in the Capitol... I don't see why he wouldn't marry one of those girls," Ken shrugs. This is what he disapproves but he does so in a relaxed way. He knows its something that can't be changed at the moment.

"Hey, come on now, I -"

"I know," he smiles, "I'm only messing with you," his fork digs into his pineapple cake with direct precision, "just so you know though, Finnick Odair, I may be Annie's younger brother, but I can still take you out if you ever hurt her."

"You know I would never hurt Annie," I mean for this to keep the upbeat tempo of the dinner but I say it in such a serious manner that it changes the mood for the rest of the evening. We eat in silence for a bit but then the fun comes back to the room when Annie suggests singing songs together, and we do this through the whole night. With a kiss I leave each of them, but I hold on to Annie just a second longer knowing that while I'm gone tomorrow all I'll be thinking about is her lips on mine.

I wake up early the next day and head into the Capitol before even the fish have opened their eyes to a new day. When I arrive the lady is naturally ecstatic and not at all upset that I was late during some of our time together. We "date" and she proposes her new clothing line. But nothing can keep me from thinking of home, thinking of Annie. At the end of the week we "break up" and I return to the relaxing feeling of Annie still in my arms – nothing has happened. Snow must have overlooked everything.

Reaping Day always seems to come sooner and sooner as my years of mentoring wear on. I dread this every year and this is no different. My feet trug over to Mags' house and I let myself in, offering to take some of her dirty dishes and clean them as she gets ready to make camera appearances.

As I finish up Mags points to something on her table. She mumbles a string over words with the most startling being, Annie's name which is also found on the envelope.

I know this is mine and not for Mags.

"They sent it to the wrong house?" I ask, not needing an answer but just proposing a relaxed question before picking up the terrifying words that must be laden within the silky paper.

She nods to me.

I don't want to look at it, I don't even want to open it. Not on Reaping Day. It's most likely some stupid request that I will need to take care of during these next Games. I wipe off my hands on my expensive pants and tear open the letter.

_To the victor, Finnick Odair,_

_I hope this finds you well and that you and Annie are having fun together. You two do make a lot of noise together but I hope it is in good fun, a boy like you deserves a break doesn't he? Don't let this little relationship you have distract you from your real job now. Unfortunately, it seems that it already has._

_Snow_

The words jumble like they always have though this time I think the levity of what I make of them causes my head to spin. Mags notices me, pale as the snow from District Twelve, and rushes over as I let the letter fall from my hands. Her hands guide me to the couch and have me sit, she holds a cloth to my face to catch the tears that start to fall from my eyes out of nervousness. _They're going to do something_.

And it's too late to stop it.

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	21. Shipwrecked - XXI

They're going to kill Annie. I don't know how yet, but I know they'll do it while I'm away in the Capitol, somewhere that I can't defend her.

"I've failed Mags," these mind games seem even more lethal than they have been in the past. Now all I can think of is how I threw away my only chance at happiness, because I dared say no. Mags shakes her head to disagree but there's nothing to disagree with here, _I messed up_.

When I return in a month there will be no more Annie.

Mags follows me to the square but not before wiping my eyes and fixing my hair. And just like that I become Finnick, smiling, promiscuous Finnick. The audience and I share a blank stare with each other as the cameras capture the exchange as "intensity," Mags stands near me along with a few other straggling victors who remembered what today's date was.

Thomps happens through the rehearsed openings as I lock eyes with Annie. I want to smile at her, wave, run up and kiss her, but I stay still and all we do is share eye contact. A gloved hand reaches into the bowl as Thomps whips out a death certificate for some random girl in the audience.

"_Annie_ _Cresta_!"

Everything drains from my face, I know because I look at my hands now pale themselves with fear. Luckily the cameras will be on her and not me but I'll have no cover for my appearance when they turn back. Annie's eyes grow wide as she slowly walks to the stage, looking down at the ground. I don't even know how to act, luckily something is clawing at the back of my throat and even if I wanted to cry it couldn't even come out as a croak.

Annie stands there, right in front of me. In front of our District who know I love this girl, who see me walk with her everyday, who see my hands interlocked with hers. Whatever boy is picked will surely know he will die, for he must know all I will do to protect Annie.

Our escort is unaware of any of this as he clomps over to the next tribute, I watch Annie's quick breathing wondering if I can just steady it with the intensity of my eyes. But it doesn't work and when the words leave Thomps' mouth for the male tribute my dropped face is quickly covered by a yawn – because I don't expect it. No one does.

"Ken Cresta!"

The young boy shakes his head, he looks up and sees his older sister on the stage, this girl about to cry out with despair and grief. My body goes numb as I see both of them stand before me. For once in her life Annie's hair is clean of snarls and pinned back in a diamond barrette I had been given by a young female fan in the Capitol. It's happening so quickly, so instantly that my world is crashing down around me in fragile seconds. The odds aren't even a question, because this wasn't chance.

I am supposed to smile, offer some witty comment as I had done in years past but none is needed. The District stands silently when Thomps asks them to shake hands, as if he hadn't even noticed they were siblings.

The pair hug instead and Annie falls to her brother's knees crying as they try to support each other. And every second kills me, every second I want to reach her, hold her, cradle her.., and I can't. But it's the scorn laden in Ken's eyes that scare me, make me regret every selfish thing I've done over the past few years.

I have broken our promise: I have not kept his sister safe.

They shuffle the two into separate rooms, which I protest since the same people will be showing up to say goodbye to the both of them. My breathing is hard and it takes every inch of my strength to continue looking calm, even when the only people in my presence are peacekeepers and not cameras.

Annie's mother runs towards me, "Why?!" She runs her fingernails into my chest and I can feel their puncture through my wool shirt. She screams in pain not caring who hears her, "Both my children!" I hold her close to my body, trying to keep my own tears at bay.

I pull her back, looking straight into those eyes we all share, "I will do everything in my power to protect them."

This does little to console her, but for maybe my sake she pretends it does and nods. We both know the arena is unpredictable and unbeatable – no one ever _really_ survives. I direct her to Ken and then break the rules by entering into Annie's. But the Peacekeepers don't stop me.

As soon as she sees me she thrashes into my body like a wave and all her emotion runs over me and we wallow in it together, "I can't do it, Finnick! I can't," Her sobs turn to wails as I hold the back of her head as tightly as I can.

"Annie look at me," I grab her wet chin and her eyes meet mine immediately, " I will do everything I can, in all my power, to keep you and your brother safe and alive. _Everything_. You only have to listen to me."

She shakes her head but her words are calmer, "There's only one winner, Finnick," big silent tears now run down her cheeks and mine soon join.

"It'll be alright Annie. This time I promise to keep you safe and _nothing_ will ever keep me from that promise again."

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading.<strong>


	22. The Things We Do - XXII

**Warning: Sexual situation (later in chapter).**

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><p>Annie sits curls up next to her brother on the train, her eyes hide themselves from the world in his sleeve. Every inch of my being wants to reach for her, to place her under my care, but Ken stares at me as he consoles his sister. He wants me to do my job.<p>

I lean back, my emotions are finally settling and the reality of "no matter how much I hate this it will never go away" sinks in. If I am ever going to have Annie in my arms again, she needs to win... and I must make this happen, "We need to talk strategy. I want you two inseparable, your bond of blood will never falter," I press down on my temples as a stressed sigh escapes me, "I'll sell you as a packaged deal and I think I know how to work the sponsors."

Ken almost growls, "How are you so calm? Does it not bother you that the two of us were picked?" He holds Annie closer, "Only one of us will win and it's my only wish for it to be Annie."

I shake my head, "You don't think this bothers me either? I love Annie, and I could never pick one of you -"

"Yes you can," Ken stares into me and even though he is younger I feel like the child and he's the adult, "You will keep my sister alive."

We sit silently for a while, Mags rubs my knee and it seems she has nothing to add. She knows this is between the three of us and while I love and respect everything that comes from this woman there is no possible way she can help address the amount of heartache all three of us seem to be experiencing.

"At training I want you two to act better than you are. I want you to sell yourselves high and look as if you're trained fighters already. I'll talk to Districts One and Two and see if I can get you each in their alliance."

It's the first time I hear a small squeaking noise and it comes from Annie. She peeks her head out and looks at me, "But what am I good at, Finnick? I could never kill someone," her green eyes shine in the afternoon sunlight pouring into the train, though they no longer seem green but rather a bloodshot red.

"Annie, you know how to spear fish," the next few words hurt me as I watch her face cringe at the brutality of it all, "it's not that different to spear a human. Ken, I assume you're fair with knives from working in the cannery?"

He nods, "I can manage them. I don't know fancy cuts, but I know what folds on a fish."

The next hour consumes us all in strategy talks as I explain the Games, sponsors, interviews... just about everything they'd have in a Hunger Games 101 class. But it seems so much harder to explain, to talk about the injuries one can sustain, or the levity of your actions. I watch with pain as I see Annie on the verge of tears while I explain poisonous foods to her and her brother.

These are things no one wants to think about, and Annie being so pure it's really no surprise she can't fathom half of it. I dismiss her to her cabin in order to give her some time to clean up, Thomps eagerly shows her. Already the beautiful hair from this morning is untangled and curled beyond saving.

Both Ken and I wait for the door to close. His face finally softens, I know what a brother's love is like, "Finnick, I am ready to die," he laughs and it unsettles me, "It seems so weird, but I know it will happen – I know I will die and I feel ready for it."

I shake my head as he confesses this to me, "Don't talk like that yet, we still need you to protect Annie," it kills me picking one over the other, selfishly keeping Annie for myself. But Ken had consented me to do this, hadn't he? I turn to him but find me unable to meet his gaze, "Ken, I promise. Annie will survive. _I promise_."

The only part of the day that doesn't give me a severe sense of dread is when we finally arrive at the train station. Annie innocently waves and smiles to the people who come to greet the "adorable" District Four girl. I hold Annie's hand and Ken's shoulder as we walk to the tribute hotel. And even in lieu of this terrible ordeal I can't help but smile at Annie's enthusiasm for the Capitol lifestyle.

"Oh! Finnick, please tell me what is this one called?" Her eyes grow wide and I am glad to see they've subdued to their normal white.

"Annie, that's called chocolate, I've given it to you before but it was in that brown cake, remember?" I've answered over thirty of these questions already as the servants continue to spoil her with desserts and exotic dishes. Each bite causes her to hum in amazement.

Mags brings us all over to the couch to watch the recap of the Reaping. Everyone looks somewhat promising this year, so far, but it's the two siblings from District Four that have really taken Panem by storm. Countless TV hosts talk about Annie and Ken, they speak of the pretty little girl and how they've all failed to realize she was older than her brother. I help ease the tension of everything by spelling out little jokes for Annie to laugh at as she snuggles close to me.

But Thomps demands I send them to bed, so I eventually do. Ken leaves on his own but I take Annie's hand and move her to her chambers myself. She sits on the big comfy bed, similar to the one I have at my house. Her eyes beg for me to join her for the night and never let her go, but with a combination of rules and alliances swimming in my head I bid her goodnight with a kiss.

The elevator takes me downstairs where most of the mentors gather to drink, discuss and drink. Haymitch and Chaff greet me with smiles, as if nothing is amiss, when I walk past them. The bar stool in between them is always empty and always seems to have my name on it. So I join them.

_I have a lot of favors to start asking_.

They talk about banal matters and alcohol, begging me to try a sip. I've become more liberal about my drinking habits over the years so the request seems normal enough but I refuse. There is something I need to ask them and only a clear head will allow me to. Even though the room is loud and dark I wait until I am sure no one is listening.

"Can I ask you two something, something big?"

This grabs their attention. Chaff laughs through his slight buzz, "Of course you can, but if you want a kidney you'll have to ask someone else."

I steady my breath once more, "You know in my District, the Reaping..."

"The brother and sister?" Haymitch runs his finger around the mouth of his glass adding a ringing noise to the air.

"Yes..." my eyes search the room again, "that girl is my Annie, the girl I love," they've all heard about Annie before only I don't think I've really mentioned her name before just to be on the safe side – and that ended up working out well, didn't it?

The two of them almost lose their liquor which is a lot for these guys. Chaff shakes his head, "That was _that_ girl. Oh my god, Finnick, I'm so sorry."

"I plan on doing everything to bring her out of that arena alive," I can feel the tears and emotion clamp at my throat and my words begin turning desperate, "Please, I don't know what I'd do without her. I _need_ to win."

Chaff shakes his head and I can tell the it isn't the alcohol speaking, this is all him, "You know I would do anything for you, Finnick. You're a great guy and I can't believe this would happen by chance like that," he says chance in a way that tells me he knows what really happened, or at least some of the foul play, "sadly, I have no good tributes this year... they would slow her down."

My eyes move up to Haymitch needing at least some form of encouragement, but he offers little to do so, "I'm sorry too. District Twelve hasn't won since I did and even then we only ever had one other victor... have you asked One or Two?"

"Not yet," I look away because it would have been easier trusting these two. I know the mentors for One and Two and while they're great, they're also untrustworthy – it's in their blood. But this must be done and it will apparently be necessary to throw my trust into this unreliable source.

The big curls of blond bounce as she laughs. Cashmere, a fine girl, easy to talk to but just as much intimidating when you watch her Hunger Games. Like her brother who won the year before her, she is deadly and her eyes reflect that. We share several things in common though, not just consecutive winning years. Just like I "frequent" the Capitol so do her and her brother.

I move off to the side as she lets an old victor from Two finish his story about the day he mutilated a tribute in order to win the Games. It's probably best to speak to her alone, I'm not sure her brother likes me much and I think her and I have a better understanding of things. But she spots me anyways.

Her walk is seductive and has been perfected over the years just like mine. A saunter really, throwing long legs in front of each other with a sway of her curvacious hips. She sticks her tongue to her cheek and winks at me, "I've noticed you staring."

"Have you?" I ask with a playful smile. Even among victors, people playing the same games with the Capitol I am, I have different masks I tend to wear.

"Yes," she lets out a breath which emits a blow of alcohol onto my nose, "it's almost like I've won the Hunger Games before," her smile widens and it really does make my own run for its money. Bright, pearly teeth that become intensified by the sharp red coloring of her lips peer out at me.

"Cashmere," I move in, breaking our _fun_, "I have a favor to ask of you."

She cocks her head and the tongue finds its spot in her cheek once more, "Well, I certainly know a thing or two about favors."

"Would you be interested in the classic One, Two and Four alliance this year?"

Her perfectly trimmed eyebrows tighten, "What's so special about this year? The boy might work but the girl is weak and emotional."

These words sting but I don't know how to directly bring up my relationship to the "weak and emotional" girl with Cashmere.

I laugh off her superstitions with ease, after years of acting I can now play things off as if they were nothing, "It's just a new strategy I want to try, she's deadly, just like her brother. And if I know anything about sister-brother duos it's that a single family can end up with a pretty good gene pool, can't they?"

She smiles as her hand reaches for my shirt button, her nails seem like daggers with the points molded into them. The blond beauty squeezes the button forcefully until it breaks and leaves a gaping hole in my shirt, I know the look in her eyes... that lustful look that seems as if to strip me down only on a visual level.

"I've always wanted to do this with you, Finnick," her face makes no change, "I get so tired of doing people that I'm told to. Maybe you can convince me upstairs, to go with this alliance?"

I know what she wants and I feel so dirty for knowing. You'd think we'd have each other's backs, knowing the pain that multiple lovers can bring, but we don't. We're far too mentally scarred to consider anything less selfish than this.

"We have the parade early tomorrow, though," I try to protest but it's no use, this girl never gets told no and for some reason I don't mind what she's proposing.

She grabs my cheeks and squeezes them, "Oh, screw it, Finnick, we know a good thing when we see it and we have to take it." And with that she drags me upstairs, only I'm not unwilling, disgustingly enough I know what she proposes and I knowingly agree to it.

Her fingers hastily press the button to the elevator even though to reach her cabin is to move only one floor. As the lift starts to make its ascent she pushes me into the wall and initiates whatever she's been desiring all these years.

We fall out of the doors and immediately our clothes are off, the two of us so used to quick sexual encounters that removing our clothes comes as second nature. Before the heat can fade I forcefully push her body into the wall, causing a painting to crash to the ground. Her tongue thrusts into my mouth and I feel everything warming within me.

Within the few minutes since we've begun I am ready. I thirst for contact and angrily, without warning, thrust inside of her, quickly pushing into her and unceremoniously slamming her head into the wall in front of us. Eventually I finish inside of her, but she hungers for seconds and drags me into the kitchen. At first I think it is to prepare a new drink but when she reveals a utensil from a drawer I know she has other plans.

It is kinky and so Capitol it's disgusting, but something we've been forced into loving. She takes its thick handle and angrily uses her incredible strength to slam it into my rear. Her moans illicit pleasure as her smile indicates fun. I allow her whatever she likes but quickly find my own weapon, a frying pan sitting innocently enough on the stove.

My hands swat back at her with the metal in tow, puncturing the skin and other intimate areas on her body. Her hands claw for me as we topple each other with our tests of strength. We make no statements, no recognition of this person we now degrade and interact with. She is slate as I am to her... all this is is the quenching of our sexual frustration.

There is no ounce of passion in these dealings, only lust and selfishness. As we lay on the cold tiles and reaffirm our mouths on each other her hands reach up to find a long piece of bread left alone from the night, she brushes its grainy texture along my back and more downward so. I don't know why I find this so arousing but I do. And this continues, this awkward, shameful bond we have with sex, the crazier acts we commit the hungrier we are trained to become.

But eventually we both finish for good and no one propositions something new. Blood drips from several locations in the once pristine hotel and I know I will have bruises of my own to discover. Our breathing relaxes and we lay together through the remainder of the night, not caring what tomorrow will bring.

We don't meet eyes but for the first time in the night she acknowledges me, "That was amazing, Finnick Odair."

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	23. Training the Innocent - XXIII

It must be around noon when I am finally roused from my slumber, an impeccably manicured foot in my face makes sure of that. Cashmere practically glows in the new light entering in from the Capitol's windows, even after the show we had put on last night her hair still seems flawless and smooth. Speaking of last night there seems to be little remnant of what actually happened, a jar is missing from a table as is the painting that fell but other than that the room is spotless.

Her smile turns up as she moves to a pot of coffee on the stove. Slowly I gather myself, enough to sit up, the pain from the hard floor is noticeable as my back aches from such an undesirable position. It takes a second yawn to throw myself up, and as I do I end up glowing just as she. We don't talk though, not yet, I take a few moments to catch my personal bearings.

My eyes are still adjusting to the light as I observe the several people who now join us in the room. Gloss sits at the table, talking to who I recognize to be the District One tributes for this year. Occasionally his eyes flicker up to me, but whatever he is teaching is more important because his figure sits rigidly throughout the conversation. He sits next to Epiphany, an older woman who is well known for her win in the 30th Hunger Games. She usually smiles to me when we pass through the mentor rooms so I don't mind talking over alliances with her.

Panacea looks directly at me and I know I've been staring too long, his eyes, even from here are as silver as the chain he wears around his neck (his personal token from the Games). He won after Chaff but I can't quite remember the exact year, though you could never recognize him anyways. His hair has been changed a number of times over the years and so has his body, you can tell by the jutting plastic in his cheeks and the unnatural color of everything about him. It always impresses me to meet with the District One victors because they are so unlike the rest of us, utterly perfect and almost spitting images of the Capitol they supply.

"Alright! Get the kids ready, we need to be at the Remake Center in thirty minutes for the opening ceremonies!" The telltale clacking of heels through the room sounds off like those of a typical escort. The woman, dressed to the neck in lace pokes at the tributes who continue to eat their food, "We have a show, people!"

"Calm down, Opperia, I need to get my breakfast too," Cashmere rolls her eyes, taking my hand after having poured her coffee.

The eyes at the table take a moment to observe me, the intruder. Gloss laughs under his breath and I realize that even though I'm wearing pants the bruises that have battered me leave little to the imagination as to what was done last night. The sister and brother pair share knowing glances as I sit down with them. Panacea and Epiphany are much more forgiving.

Gloss breaks the tension as his tributes stare at me with little to say, "So, what can we do for you, District Four?"

It's the blond head of curls that breaks in, "An alliance. We're doing One, Two and Four this year."

And just like that I'm in, and it shocks me but I know I need to feign surprise, "Till the top eight?" I offer this to the table, as if it were a group discussion. The two older mentors mumble to one another, occasionally sharing something with Gloss who only nods in response.

Eventually the table responds in agreement and a weight is lifted off of my shoulders. Cashmere's tricky smile finds me again, "We better both get ready for the parade... I'll let you off the hook and deal with Enobaria myself."

This is my cue to leave and I do so gracefully. Out of the group I don't trust Cashmere is the one I don't trust the least, she's at least in some fashion kind. Though I wouldn't put it past her to stab in the leg to get ahead. I have just exited the elevator on the fourth floor when several waiting faces greet me.

Thomps pushes through, "It's nice to have a mentor who cares... who actually shows up!" He moves into the elevator in a huff, obviously rattled by my disappearance. Mags follows with him, but with no questioning retorts.

Annie slips next to me as well and I immediately feel like scum, like something off the bottom of a docked ship. Her small fingers curl around mine and I don't push them away, I let them hold on tightly because it'd be wrong for me not to. I want to empty my conscious to her so badly, but doing so before the Games would be selfish and wrong. She doesn't deserve to bear my wrongdoings.

Noqall and Rumiro, the female designer, greet me and my tributes below in the Remake Center. The prep teams take Annie into their arms and Ken follows their demands quite well for someone whose face reads extremely uncomfortable. I can't help but smile. Mags and I wait, I lean on her shoulder but we don't share any words. I keep listening to the room before us, hearing small, helpless yelps from Annie as they must be untangling her knotted hair or removing the light blond from her legs.

It starts taking too long and after being so cramped last night I find myself in need of stretching. My feet take me along the halls and past the other tribute cells as I run my hands down my neck trying to get all its cracks out. Apparently, my mind is too full however because it distracts me from the short man standing in front of me.

I walk into him and quickly apologize. He stands outside the District Three cells and looks up from his glasses. And he proceeds to apologize himself.

"No, it's my fault, really," I shake my head again with a laugh taking responsibility. We met before, but not long enough for me to ever remember his name. Or his real name I should say, I know the nickname and I even recall him using it himself but I don't know him well enough to feel comfortable calling him "Volts" or any other variation.

His eyes move away but he talks to me in a conversational tone, "How are your Games going this year?"

I've never had a conversation with this guy before but I try to at least go along with one now, "They're..." but I can't be honest can I, and yet something is pushing for me to spill all my secrets and feelings into this mousy man, "It's complicated," I laugh at what I do next, "I usually ask for other people's secrets, but do me a favor and take one of mine, I need to get a load off. That girl from my District this year is the only girl in my life I've ever loved," I shake my head continuing my laugh, "and now I get to watch her die."

"I'm sorry."

But no amount of sorry will ever settle my anger, my stress, my fear. I hope it's not too readable in my face as I walk away from the District Three victor but I know how it feels inside. Mags offers me my seat back and I feel just as cramped as I did before. Luckily Annie walks out as a welcome distraction.

She twirls for me in long green dress snapped in the middle with a brown corset, only it isn't just green. It's green with copper undertones, golden flecks, and blue shine that shifts as she moves. The dress looks like the ocean if you were underneath it looking up. It fits her in a romantic way, hugging her chest but not providing any unnecessary cleavage (just enough to let the onlooker know it's there) and barreling down in ruffles that cascade like the silken waves in her hair.

It's so innocently Annie. Ken moves in the same way, with the fabric reflecting the different lights of color. It will be easy to sell them looking like this, they don't go overtly sexy like the District Two tributes are trying this year with their short pants and cut off shirts, they look respectable and good nurtured. It's better this way anyways, neither of them could pull off something other than innocent and friendly.

Something within me takes joy at watching Annie's smile, her fingers clench to her brother and the side of the car but occasionally she risks waving them in the air. Her giggles are constant and they end up winning the audience over, because how could you hate a girl so gentle as her? Only one thing could act as weakness, and that one thing is found wholly in the Hunger Games – corruption.

At dinner I continually, along with the designers, Thomps and Mags, praise them both. Some packaged deals are hard to sell: either you have a strong tribute who tanks in interviews, but you know will do well in the arena versus a memorable face who can do little more than tear open a can. Both of these are bad options but at least in the case of sponsors it's usually easier to appeal to the Capitol with a likable face. They eat and fill their bellies and once more I am faced with putting Annie to bed.

This time at least I feel more at ease, enough so that I allow myself to lay with her. I plan only on staying until she passes into slumber, but her tiny body finds its slot within mine and we stay cuddled on the bed until morning, sleeping soundly in the other's arms. It's getting harder and harder to break myself from these holds but I do.

The morning is uneventful and I haven't been arrested for sleeping next to a tribute yet so I figure things are going well as I drop the pair off at the training rooms. My hands knowingly type in the digits to the mentor center where I plan on taking my lunch and killing the rest of the day away.

A few mentors sit at the table and I veer off my original course to go join them. I recognize the face of the one as Cecelia but the body reads differently, either it's not her or she's put on a lot of weight. It takes a few moments for me to register that she's not more round, rather she is pregnant with a child. Her smile looks up at me sheepishly as if understanding my confusion. And it really is confusion because in my years of being here I've never seen a pregnant mentor walking around.

Two people fail to acknowledge me though, and instead continue on in their conversation. The growl from Enobaria is loud as she flashes her fangs, "I think you're being ridiculous. Red is red and there's no debate about it!"

"No," Cashmere's eyes grow dimmer as her words come out harsher, "it's not, because when I ask for my lips to be a ruby red, I assume that the Capitol can at least afford to give me _that_ color and not a disgusting _scarlet_ red!" She throws her hands up, noticing me, "Right, Finnick?"

"Yea! Of course, what she said!" I say unknowingly as I pull up a chair. Cashmere is a fairly superficial human but I guess in reality that is what the Capitol broadcasts of me as well... I order a drink and give into this idea of wealth, because at the end of the day a fresh glass of champagne will always be more desirable than an old glass of water. I even join in on the ensuing conversation over frivolous objects, because I am just as materialistic as they are.

My mind wanders to Annie as the conversation moves to the Games. I think about her at the center right now and what I would give to volunteer and go in with her. It's easy to picture her there right now, trying to learn camouflage instead of spearing like I told her. But I can't blame her, not one bit... these Games aren't designed for people like her, they're designed for horrid humans like myself and those surrounding me at this moment.

"And what do you think, newbie?" Enobaria rolls her neck as she waits for an answer, the whole table now looks at me. The three mentors from Two, a couple from One, a pair from Eight and Seeder from Eleven. Every single one of these people have perfected their death stare.

I change to a lighter tone, one I might be able to handle, "Newbie? How long have I been here now, five years? If that's considered a newbie you really only have three years on me, Enobaria."

"Well, you haven't had a winner yet," she cocks her head, assuming she's bested me.

I nod, "That's right," then I let something slip that should hopefully put them all on edge, "Well, things will change this year, I promise. There's a lot at stake."

And there really is.

Time passes slowly and I spend it with old victors, helping Annie mentally along the way. I try to hold my own emotions as much as possible because I fear any failure on my part will result in her getting to upset to function. I know I shouldn't underestimate her like this, since she's such a strong girl, but maybe I'm doing this for myself. It's hard to tell now.

We share our warmth with one another on the couch as the training scores are being revealed. Her hair, even after only being brushed this morning is a mess, and she continues to scrunch it as she wraps her legs in my lap. By now we don't even hide our affections for one another, I plant kisses freely and she accepts them graciously.

The two of us are so caught up in the other that we almost miss District Four's scores. I force myself away from temptation and instead focus on Caesar as he reveals the next tribute, "And from District Four, Ken Cresta... coming in with the score of an eight."

My heart lets out a sigh of relief as the room jumps with glee to congratulate Ken. Annie leans over to kiss him and I squeeze his hand happily. He laughs and I figure that just like me he is keeping sane for Annie's sake.

The girl in question's face appears, a pretty smile on the tanned cheeks. My heart may have sighed but now it breathes heavily in anticipation. Annie grabs onto my fingers and closes in tight on them. Caesar places the microphone closer, "Also from District Four, Annie Cresta... with a score of a six."

There is no luster, no reason to be thrilled from the sound of his voice but for me there is every reason in the world to grab the love of my life and shower her with kisses. Thomps, himself, excuses to leave the room and cry with joy (he doesn't want us to see his makeup run). Mags' face grows smaller as her grin manages to take up the whole area of it.

"You did it, Annie," in between our frantic breaths I let her know how proud I am, "you did it, _you did it_."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for continuing to read!<strong>


	24. Never Let You Go - XXIV

The elevator is silent and only the sound of machinery working is what drowns out the tension between all of us. Thomps plays with Annie's dress, Ken stares out the window to the hotel, Mags mangles her earrings into hooks and I stand awkwardly in between all of them, playing with a string of rope.

Ken turns to me as the doors open and they get directed to the lineup for interviews, "Any last advice for our TV debuts?"

"Yes, you should act strong try to look as old as the District One male... say you're determined to see the beaches once more, or something romantic like that," I catch Annie out of the corner of my eye who seems to be listening now, I address her as well, "Annie, all you need to do is talk about the Capitol and its people, people love you already and they'll love you more if you compliment them and their lifestyles."

Mags, Thomps, Noqall, Romiro and I are directed to our seats amongst the crowd. We sit in the second row with the District Three crew to my left and the District Five to my right. I take a deep breath as Caesar's theme begins to blare, the man hops onto the stage and smiles widely for the Capitol and the Districts watching at home.

The whole thing is old by now, each year they're the same characters. A strong angry girl, a spiteful little boy, an older volunteer and sickly child... they're all the same and us mentors try to recycle the tropes each year. Cashmere's tributes seem fine this year, only the boy volunteered – actually in general it was a weak year for volunteers which is a bit odd.

Her girl's name is Pearl and she seems pretty pleased with herself as she brushes out some long, silken black hair. It's everything the Capitol wants, the District One tributes usually are, pretty people, skinny, fit people with sizable attributes that play towards their appeal. Pearl and tribute have a go at her dress, finding it comical that is decorated up to her neck in the same stone her name is picked after. When her district mate comes out he's not much different, though he is quieter. Roster had the highest training score this year with an eleven.

Enobaria stands up to cheer her female tribute on as she ambles out onto the stage, the dress is light purple but does something in the light that changes her skin to a rosy glow. Her and Caesar talk about different things and its clear that she is strong. Clever leaves and the male, Cameron, is introduced though neither make too much of an impression on me – I only really pay attention since these are the kids I blindly threw Ken and Annie into an alliance with.

For the next few minutes I rest, closing my eyes and letting my calculated thoughts run wild... like if things had been different and the tributes from One and Two weren't so bland, if that would change whether or not Annie and Ken's odds were better. None of this thinking puts me at ease and most of it actually proposes new questions but when Caesar announces Ken's name, I pay attention.

Everything goes well, his smile is confident his words are precise. For one moment he actually transports me back to Four, his description of fish and its smell in the warm air and salty atmosphere – even Caesar mentions he'd like to visit. It's a good interview, he doesn't talk about much with Annie and focuses instead on his work in the cannery, asking Caesar if he's ever eaten some of the products he's labeled.

Someone beside me whispers and I realize it's Beetee, he talks to the two mentors next to him just as Annie enters onto the stage. Cashmere leans forward in my seat and gives me a mischievous grin, I nervously laugh in response like it's some weird joke we have. But then all my attention is directed to only one person and we're the only people in the world in that moment. She walks so carefully to her seat, so unused to shoes in general let alone ones that add inches to her height.

The crowd cheers for her and behind me I can hear the comments, how innocent and sweet she seems. And it's amazing to watch because unlike almost every person in this universe who, when placed into the same situation, might crumble under the pressure and change persona: she doesn't. No, that's the real Annie up there. The giggling, happy, gentle girl I fell in love with, right there and in the flesh. She is out of place amongst the rest of us monsters.

Caesar compliments her dress which cascades to the floor with frills and shines in a subdued sunset color, the apples of her cheeks are painted the same way and she really does look like a doll. Like one you would give a little girl to brush the hair out and dress up. She smiles politely and waves with a shy arm to the loud crowds.

"And the most adorable tribute from District Four that I've ever met... little Annie, my, my, what a lovely lady," he takes her hand with a smile to put her at ease and places a light kiss on it, "I think we'd all love to know how you find the Capitol, is it really different from District Four?"

"Oh Caesar, it's so lovely. Every second of it is amazing, the sights and sounds are something I've never been exposed to before," she brushes back her hair, "it feels like I'm in the magical land of something from a story."

The Capitol fawns over her naivety and Caesar takes it in stride, "Well it seems like you've just about won over the heart of everyone here... and your mentor, does he take joy in showing you these new things? He seems rather attached to you," the host raises his brows, "I hear someone caught him holding your hand."

Eyes turn to me and I catch Annie's smile before I start to blush, I'm close enough that I can talk to Caesar directly. I laugh at his accusation and throw up my arms in playful defense, "As much as I'd love to have a girl like Annie all to myself, I'm afraid I'm only her mentor," I wink to the girls behind me, not one in particular but a group of women and they jokingly respond with snickers.

To my relief, the cameras turn away and center back onto Annie and it seems my small joke is enough to tide them over. But Caesar doesn't relent from the subject of "love" while talking to Annie, instead he asks her about District Four and her favorite thing there.

She collects herself, "I love everything in District Four, it is my home, it is where I swim and take category of the world around me," and she attempts not to look at me, "it's also where my true love is."

Cries instead of "awes" are shared from the audience, no longer is she _just_ adorable she is now adorably tragic. The playful Annie has left the room and its as if she wants to make a public address to only one person sitting in the audience, to me, "Caesar, I don't mean to dampen anyone's mood, but you see right before the Reaping I had talked with this boy that I love. He had talked to my family a few weeks before and we all joked about marriage, and for a while I thought it might become true..."

The host picks up where he voice fades, "Oh, but Annie, now you're here and you might never make it back to him."

Annie rolls her hands around one another, trying to calm her nerves, "I know," she shakes her head, "but you better believe when I get in that arena there will be nothing keeping me from finding his arms once more. Somehow our love will power through this and we will return to the peace we once had. I'm not sure what he'd do without me, he _needs_ me Caesar, and I need him."

He shakes his head, I'm not sure if he's feigning despair or truly fighting back tears but he takes Annie into his arms for a hug, "My dear, you have my support and I am more than positive that that wonderful mentor of yours will help you as well."

The crowd proceeds to cheer for her, her interview was even more perfect than I could hope for. I move past the three Districts before mine and exit into the isle, dismissing myself for the restroom. I'm not sure if any of them know but at this point I don't care, not one bit. The hallway is littered with peacekeepers but they let me through and I find Annie and Ken holding each other's hands.

I shake my head as I smile for both of them, so proud, so confident that this crazy plan we've concocted might actually work. My lips find Annie's and we are lost, lost in passion, lost in time. We fall onto a sofa and I don't mind that anyone watching is getting a show. I want them to see how much I love this girl, how far I am willing to go to protect her.

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><p><strong>Thank you for the support!<strong>


	25. The 70th Hunger Games (part one)

Without her warm breath on mine I feel cold and bare, but I can still faintly feel her soft, full mouth on mine. I touch my own to be sure, it's all I have of her now. She is off, away in a hovercraft that I cannot join, gone to fight her own battles and hopefully win everything.

We've said our goodbyes, her, her brother. Mags hugged them both and kissed Annie's forehead as she does mine. At one point I figured they might have carried me into the arena as well because Annie and I were so attached.

But now they are gone. Now all I can do is rely on Cashmere's tributes to follow through, rely on Ken to watch Annie during the Bloodbath and attempt to keep my own mental sanity. I pass by the rooms of chattering and fall into mine, sinking to the couch and hoping the countdown doesn't start for a few more centuries.

Haymitch doesn't even knock when he enters in through the door and takes the liberty to sit next to me. His clothes emit a stench of something, something mixed with alcohol. I don't even open my eyes when he starts conversation, I don't want to acknowledge anything – the child within me figures that as long as I ignore everything I might be able to hold on to my sanity.

He lets out a sigh before he begins, "The time to fight back isn't now..."

I sit up because now I am angry, angry that he's right and that I can't fight back. Angry that someone is always one step ahead of me, planning and plotting something I'll never see coming. No, I stare at this man and get mad, not at him but someone, an invisible enemy, "Then when will it be? How much longer do I have to suffer through this madness?"

My emotions brew and it's only Haymitch's hand on my shoulder that calms me. I feel so much younger, so much like a child where my father had offered me the same condolence. Haymitch's words are so much like his once were, "Finnick, I'll let you know. You'll have your moment and I'll need you to be with me."

A voice speaks over us, in an ominous voice that cues us back to our rooms. It tells us to watch our monitors and get ready for the assault, for the Games to begin.

I don't want Haymitch to leave but it'd be silly to keep him here, "So you're off to Twelve then?"

He shrugs with a cheeky smile, "Why bother? There's already a winner and I highly doubt it's going to be Twelve," he reveals what I assumed all a long, a bottle of booze from inside his shirt, "they'll be dead at the Bloodbath."

It's his humor but it unsettles me, what if Mags had given up on me just like that? Or I had decided to give up on Annie? He is about to leave when I catch him with my last words, "You always give up on your kids... just like that."

He shrugs, "Well you would too, wouldn't you. Every year since you know they'll just die. Instead of wasting the effort to know their faces and personalities. Instead of feeling bad and like you failed after you've known them and they die?"

That type of talk is Hunger Games talk, the type someone who never left their Games might feel like spouting. But I don't let him hear these thoughts, because he's right. It is hard to help these kids and I know why so many of District Four's mentors have given up, "No, I understand. It's just that _these_ Games are important this year, I'll need every ounce of luck I can muster."

His head of straggly hair shakes again in disappointment – not for me but for something else, but he nods to himself, "That you do, Mr. Odair," he pops off the tab of the beverage and toasts to me in a mocking manner, "May the odds be in your favor."

And my odds are horrible. Not is Annie in their by accident, by random assortment out of thousands of kids. No, Annie is the only one in there because of me, because of someone else's mistake. This is the price I owe to Snow, this is how he figures I will give him my undying loyalty.

A gong rings insinuating the start of the Game... and my heart stops. I find it near impossible to even bring my eyes up to the television and watch the horror. In the vast bed of sand that surrounds them Annie practically skips across the bloodthirsty tributes, averting her gaze completely, to pick over the Cornucopia on her own sweet time. Ken follows her quickly and watches her back, the sun causes their skin to glow and it's so easy to pick out the District Four tributes.

Ken commands Annie to grab a sword and she finds one, she tries to cover the struggle on her face as she attempts to lift it but I can tell. She's not a helpless girl, she's smart, strong and sweet but when she's so far out of her element like this you can see the world she is used to conflicting with the one she's been forced into now. Her brother's hands wrap around the blade as he uses the bunt of it to smash in a tribute's skull.

Annie goes off screen and into the darkness of the Cornucopia taking with her a slingshot of all things. I slap my forehead, but I don't blame her. A trident is laid perfectly in the front of the weapons pile but she does not reach for it, she loads her slingshot with rocks and small balls provided without a care.

My heart does not stop anymore, now it beats beyond repair. This is what it's like, what it's like to be the family of a tribute and have to watch these Games. Every year they're blank faces but now I am watching someone so vital to my way of life that my insides are physically aching. If I don't die from a heartache, I might as well die from internal bleeding or something of that matter.

Ken fits in with the Careers almost seamlessly. As another large brute from District Six lurches for the presents of the Cornucopia he stabs him fatally in the stomach, spilling out a package of entrails. Annie plays her part as well, fastening rope into nets, organizing food and weapons into piles. She is in her own world and she knows what character she must play, but she is still attempting to block out the reality around er.

After ten minutes my heart attack has warded off and there are only three straggling tributes left trying to fight off the five Careers. Annie is forced to emerge as the initial Bloodbath comes to a close and joins her brother to shoot one in the eye. I know how difficult it is for her to hurt anyone, but she doesn't show it on her face. With the one blinded, Pearl moves in to shoot him with a dart.

Many had tried to run away from the initial fight but there were no woods, rocks or water for them to go to, only sand. The cannons eventually sound off and I start tallying them down, thirteen dead. Just in the Cornucopia alone. Everyone in the alliance is in pretty good shape and I take mental notes of everything happening in the surroundings.

Pearl and Roster stand together in a tight formation, Roster's breathing takes a moment to gather as he picks off bits of human flesh from his mace. Pearl, while still not a physically big is just as deadly with her darts and I count off three kills for her, during a rewind of the initial fights. Clever, is a bit of a puzzle since her name is clearly a lie – she is a thick girl who has grown attached to a heavy sword that she swings around like nothing. Luckily, Cameron is there to finish her sentences for her, since they usually make little sense. In reality, I'd say he's the smartest of the group, but closer to Annie's level in terms of usefulness at this point – it'd be easy for Ken to take him out. Roster is the one to look out for.

They all finish recuperating and look over the supplies Annie has organized for them, Pearl thrusts a trident in Annie's hands and with little eye contact tells her to use it since it's from her District. Either the girl studied my Games or just knows from experience.

Annie nods obediently and Ken sees to it that he constantly stands close to her side. This is our strategy, to keep Annie alive long enough that she can win by survival. As they sort out things in terms of importance they notice there's no water being provided. Only weapons, light snacks and sleeping bags are provided. They pick out sets of six in terms of sleeping bags, weapons and food and then burn the rest in a fire off to the side.

Cameron took it upon himself to survey the arena and as he comes back he tells of his findings, that there's close to nothing in the arena besides a large sandbox that they seemed to be trapped in. And it really is an environment I've never seen before, all golden and as if at one point an ocean could have lived here but instead decided to wisp away leaving only its floor in its wake. It's difficult to mark out the Cornucopia since everything seems to be the same color, it's even harder when gusts of sand blow up and change the shape of the map completely – adding new heaps that tower and valleys that threaten to be sunk in. The heat is also something to note, the sun is unrelenting and there is clearly no viable shade options besides the burning shell of the Cornucopia.

I look at the map on my table, there must be something I can do to help them. It appears that the Cornucopia is at the far eastern end of the map. There's a large mound like statue at the opposite, Northern end designed with a woman's figure, out of her mouth spews freshwater like a fountain. I can only assume it is some type of trap but there are no other alternatives I can see.

The map is of medium size, though it would take around eight hours on foot to reach the statue with the questionable water. And that's assuming they could make it there in this heat, to be trapped with nothing in the middle of the harsh sun would be a death sentence. The whole thing is tricky.

There's another cannon and my screen zooms in on the scene, the scene of a large, rabid snake poisoning a tribute with its teeth. Besides the small snacks it seems snakes are the only food available. Nonetheless I'll want to watch another tribute eat one before I catch my tributes attempting it.

"Well, we can't just sit in here," Pearl whines as she wipes away sweat and sand from her body, "we're going to need water and we can go _hunting_ before the day is through."

"The sun is so too hot right now to get work done, it has to be about noon and we're better off waiting in the shade here for everything to cool down and the sun's intensity to lessen," Ken adds this, it's thoughtful, observant and also helpful in gaining the other's trust.

She flicks away some of her black hair, still just a thick as it was at the interview, "Well, you seem to know a lot about the sun. I guess we'll just wait then," she throws herself back into the sand and starts playing with her shoes, scratching the fabric with a pile of knives out of boredom.

"Meat?" Clever pipes up with a string of words but that's all people make out of her ramblings, Pearl and Roster give each other quizzical looks as do Annie and Ken.

"She wants to know what we will eat," Cameron explains without falter.

There time in waiting for the sun to die down is spent with them getting to know each other. Pearl talks about District One with Ken and Annie continues to sit quietly while tying up more nets, unlike Ken she hasn't been fully initiated into the group.

"You're very pretty, Annie," Roster speaks for the first time in words that aren't about killing or commands. People make compliments to me in front of her like this all the time and even still a surge of jealousy rushes through me. She blushes and to Pearl's credit stands up, angrily, waiting for Roster to take back his words, "Ah, yes, so are you Pearl..." He rolls his eyes, playfully messing with her.

They wait patiently, and so do the Game Makers since nothing too drastic occurs... only a mass sensation of dehydration rides out over the arena and I hand on to every word uttered by the remaining tributes. Only eleven remain, two of those wandering on their own could potentially be threats but the rest are near Annie and Ken's levels.

I head out of my room and into the sponsor's. Their eyes prey on me like a roasted goose all tied up for Yuletide. I've done this before, walk in here and barter with banal things like sex in order to help my District win an advantage. But this time, like every mentor in the room I want something that will cost a lot – I want water. Cashmere nods at me and I respond, we're on the same page.

I'm about to go talk to one of my regulars, a rich housewife named Luioffy, but something else catches my eye. A small bow that sticks out so awkwardly among the other fashion in the room, so strange it seems normal compared to the others. I know who's here, and I just have to talk to her.

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><p><strong>Hope everyone is enjoying the story!<strong>


	26. The 70th Hunger Games (part two)

The glasses stare up at me, "Well... I assume you're looking for water as well? I heard it was snowing in District Four this year, pretty strange Reaping, huh?"

She speaks in such strange ways nowadays, but I completely understand her. Bex knows there was something strange this year and I'm glad she does, she might be able to help me more. I grab a chair and pull it up next to her, "So what do you think? What's everyone saying?"

"They figure Ken has pretty good odds 1-9 chance of winning... I think my father figured Annie has a 1-60 chance but she's lasted longer than he thought," she stares into my eyes trying to gauge my reaction and movements. Even when she's not writing gossip she's looking for it.

There's not much else to share but as I am about to move away she grabs my hand, revealing a laced hand and a smile, "You know I'll do what I can," she laughs, "My father told me not to get involved, but I think I will anyways: you don't have to just ask for secrets, Finnick, you _could_ ask for anything you wanted..."

The realization hits me, but it's been out there before. I can sleep with any of these people and have them pledge money to Annie. Obviously this isn't the most ethical approach but the legitimate approach could leave Annie dead. I continue over on my original course, to Luioffy. She smiles when she sees me and offers me a piece of chocolate laden with gold that's probably enough to feed most families in Four for a year.

She claps her hand as she talks to me like we're friends, "Oh, Finnick! You have such wonderful tributes this year! The whol family finds little Annie just so adorable," she grabs my hands and I give her a thankful peck on the cheek.

I move to stand up and loudly, in front of her friends and peers I offer my price, "Perhaps we can talk in private for a moment, about the Games?"

Her eyes grow wide with lust and realization as her husband dismisses her into my company. People watch with jealous eyes as I take her into a room and begin to lay into her. She gets what she wants and I get my pledged money. Just like that. Annie, my dear, if this is what I have to do to have you back in my arms than the entire Capitol shall be fucked. Quite literally.

I head back to my room and watch as the stumbling Capitol woman falls back into her chair as her friends eagerly pounce on her for the news. I can tell by her flustered face she is spreading our "escapade" around like a fire, she picks up the electronic book next to her and I watch the screen to my left. The numbers move up considerably, and continue to climb. It's nearing the end of the day in the Games and I know the crew will be attempting to venture out into the night... but no one has tried the water yet and I don't trust the Game Makers at all to not have something planned for the setting sun.

How do I tell them not to venture out?

I watch the cash moving up on my left screen and click through the items available for purchase, and it's everything you can think of. A blue holographic screen blinks in front of me as I look for a search key. There's all sorts of things, small things with prices of around 100,000 dollars and large things like weapons that exceed millions.

My heart sinks as I find the bottle of water priced around 500,000. They prices are clearly jacked up, last year in the arena where water was abundant it cost only 45,000 for a gallon. But this is the only way I can stop them from heading out, so I click the button and most of the stocked up money disappears. In response a parachute falls and I watch the alliance investigate it.

"I don't think we're supposed to head out tonight, guys," Cameron speaks up and I'm surprised he's the one to figure it out.

"Why not?" Pearl looks at him in disgust as if she can't fathom why this boy wouldn't want to go out in the night and kill.

"Well, we can clearly see the water from here, in that statue thing... so why would our mentors send us water tonight if we could just go get it ourselves. I think it just means we're supposed to sit and wait."

I watch curiously as the dialogue takes place and Roster only takes a moment to acknowledge Annie who has started to divide up the water into a few cups she's fastened out of plastic packaging. He almost looks like he'll eat her or something, but she doesn't take notice.

Cashmere and Enobaria barge into my room without warning and the two powerful women tower over me in my chair, teeth barred to fight and nails perched to scratch. _ What have I done this time_?

"Finnick! Why would you waste your money and send them water?!" Cashmere yells at me.

Enobaria grabs my shirt and pulls me towards her. I consider myself pretty tall compared to others I've met, but Enobaria manages to rival me and I end up staring right into her intimidating physique. Wild hair running with bloodthirsty eyes, we won't even get into the teeth, "Are you an idiot?!"

She growls and Cashmere pulls her aside to calm her down. After the initial shock is carried through the two females stare at me, awaiting answers to their questions.

I catch my breath and begin slowly, lest I awaken the beast once more, "We have no idea what's with the water over there, _or_ what the desert does at night," I eye them carefully but they don't seem to pounce, "so, by sending the water we've quenched their thirst for the time being and they can stay safe until we can see what happens to the others."

I await further lashing but none comes.

Enobaria cracks her neck but seems perfectly calm, "That's actually pretty clever, newbie."

Cashmere moves closer, though,"Finnick, I hope you've realized that sponsors don't come as easily as you think. Things are expensive... you and I were very lucky in our games. _Very lucky._ Our kids this year? Not very much," she closes her eyes for a moment and scratches her chin, "Okay, we still have three players to knock off before the alliance is going to break off, I'll be in the room over and so will Enobaria. When you have a plan come and tell us and we'll talk about it next time, okay?"

When they leave I call Mags in who was upstairs talking to old friends and napping. She greets me with a hug and I gladly wrap my arms around her, being nervous, terrified and sick to your stomach really does a number on you. I instruct her to watch Annie and Ken and immediately get me if something goes awry.

I move upstairs and sleep uneasily, finding myself caught in between nightmares and images of Annie and I sitting happily on the beach. After four hours of attempted sleep I give up and turn on the TV just to check on things, I watch Annie tossing and turning in Ken's arms. Clever moves unwillingly as well. After thirty minutes of watching them sleep, Caesar goes into a recap of the night hours. He shows a tribute drinking from the statue of water and going off in the night to fight mutant coyotes also on the prowl.

The alliance seems to be holding up fine and they're warm in their sleeping bags while others are cold, but I can tell by their rumblings that they're hungry for sustainable food and anxious for water, more water than that of what Annie has divide up between them. The sand is always changing the shape and turning things around making it confusing to those caught in its storms on where they should be going. They would need to know their direction constantly in order to figure out where they are. I tap my fingers impatiently on my bedding as I sit awake with heavy-lidded eyes and little sleep.

I can't just sit here because I'll go mad trying to think of what they need so in the drugged night I throw of the covers and make my way back into the mentor room, opening District One's room without permission and standing there in just my pajama bottoms.

"Cashmere," I whisper since the room is dark.

"Not Cashmere, Gloss," the lights flick on and I find the handsome man attempting sleep on the couch, "What has you up?"

"I've just been thinking about what it is that they need... I can't remember the word but I know it will help them," I look at him in the blaring light, just as dazed as he is, "something that will tell you your direction?"

He shakes his head, "I have no idea, but it makes sense. I'll ask Cashmere when we switch tomorrow," he yawns and turns away.

At this point there's no way I'll be able to fall asleep, from nerves and the thoughts plaguing my mind it's just impossible. So I do the next best thing, I head to the bar.

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><p><strong>Thank you for followingreading/supporting/favoriting! **


	27. The 70th Hunger Games (part three)

Chaff and Haymitch are plastered drunk,with Haymitch the only one speaking. They are literally the only people down here this late, not even servants are down here at this hour.

"And what do you need, Mr. I-still-have-both-tributes-Odair?"

I grab a stool next to them and take a sip of whatever concoction they've deemed drinkable, they've got to be of some use, "How can I help my tributes figure out their direction in the arena?"

Chaff puts his head in his arms and brushes me away and Haymitch pretends to look like he's thinking but I know he's just drunk. I sigh and slouch in my chair, taking a glass of water instead and trying to keep awake since the alternative is a slew of unfortunate nightmares.

None of this is helping me, the lack of sleep, the alcohol, the questions I can't answer. I head back upstairs and find Mags sitting at the desk dozing away – I eye her jealously and take a look at the list of things I can buy. We have around a million dollars banked right now and the rumor is spreading that if you sponsor Finnick you'll get laid. Apparently sponsors are asking for me but I'd rather not stretch myself out too much. My crotch actually hurts as I sit down, my entire pelvis does but watching Annie sitting there in pain is enough to pull me through.

I scroll through the list of popular items I can send. Berries, matches, compasses. Wait. A compass! That's it! I am the biggest idiot in the world for not figuring it out sooner. My feet take me over to Cashmere's room so quickly I startle the brother and sister duo as they take their coffee in the early hours of the morning.

"A compass!" I yell out, she has no idea what I'm talking about and comes over to quiet me with a cup of steaming brown liquid. She's still wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe from her slumber and seems like she's not quite put together yet.

She gives me a smile but doesn't shy away from scolding me, "What the hell _is_ that, Finnick?"

"We use it all the time back home, _Cash_," I use her nickname and she snorts.

"Well, we don't use them in my district..." she looks to her brother who shakes his head with a smile. I wonder if they're making fun of me, but I don't really care.

"Annie and Ken will know how," I grab hold of her arms, "It's around 700,000 dollars... and we can afford, should I buy it?"

"If you really think it will help, Finnick," she blushes, "then sure."

I quickly run back the two rooms between us and watched with a thrilled, sleep-deprived face as the parachute reaches Annie. She wakes up to the noise and moves over to investigate it when Pearl grabs it out of her hands. She rips it open and finds the metal contraption, obviously she was expecting the food and water she's been hinting at throughout the day. Ken and Annie light up realizing what it is but Pearl throws it into the sand and buries herself in her hair.

Cameron looks at the object, with an observant face.

"It's a compass," Ken explains, "It will always tell you where north is... I've been wondering if it were true."

"If what was true?" Cameron still doesn't understand and he carefully fingers over the strange contraption. He's pretty clever and I think him and Ken respect each other's ideas and observations.

"That the sand is always changing and making a different arena to the point where you don't know which direction you're in," he points to the compass, "So with that we can use it to always find the water which is apparently always North."

Cam shrugs and accepts Ken's explanation, "Well, as long as you know how to use it..."

Ken nods, "Of course, lots of people in District Four use these out on the water."

Everyone wakes up and the sun has yet to blaze because they all seem to shiver outside of their sleeping bags. Each of them gathers their weapons and decide to walk out to the water where they also figure the other tributes have gathered. Annie helps add up the stars and guide Ken with the compass in order to stay on track. Every few minutes a big gust of wind will appear and blow the sand violently around their faces. These gusts cause them to spin around and lose their direction, but with the compass they quickly regain their way.

After awhile of this slow but sure process, Pearl gets fed up.

"I can't stand this! The sand is always getting in my eyes! What a stupid arena!" She kicks a rock over, rather violently, and its removal reveals a deadly snake mutt twisting up to greet her. It punctures her heart with its sharp fangs before she can even grab her knives.

Cashmere's swearing is loud in the room over and I can hear Gloss yelling at her to calm down.

Roster just as quickly kills the creature as he rushes over to Pearl, "Shit, well she wasn't the nicest but at least she reminded me of..."

His voice trails off and as it does I watch as jealousy rises in me again and Annie walks over to places her hand on Roster's shoulder. He holds her hand tightly as he stares at the mangled girl in the sand, the cannon blasts and its all over.

"At least now we have meat," Cameron breaks up their moment of silence. There's no reason for them to start a fire either, the sun is starting to rise and get so hot all of their skin is beginning to blister with red dots. At least it also cooks the meat.

They eat it as Clever slices it with her knives, but after their break they find it hard to move, their skin is too cracked and red to use it.

Both Cashmere and Enobaria walk into my room after this is revealed.

"They've jacked up the price for sun lotion. It's around 2 million per vial now."

I shake my head in disgust, "We have to get it to them, though," and I already know what I am going to be doing tonight. I strip off my shirt in front of the two of them as they understand what is about to happen. Cashmere follows my plan and I catch a look of sadness in her face as she unbuttons the top button on her blouse revealing her ample cleavage. Enobaria just continues to laugh at the two of us as she walks out of the room and back to her own.

After a few hours of leaving things to Mags and "satisfying" my sponsors, we get the medicine to the alliance. But now it's me who hurts too much to move. I smile a moment though, as Annie enjoys the instant relief of the cooling cream but my smile quickly fades when I reposition myself in my chair next to Mags. I can barely even walk and the pain is enough to get me to tear up if I move to quickly.

Haymitch and Chaff laugh at me, but eventually tell me I should see a doctor. Mags squeeze my hand before I leave assuring me that things will be alright with her in charge. I am escorted to a top notch clinic facility by several bodyguards. They sit me down on a cold metal table and a man in a white coat explores _down there_.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading.<strong>


	28. The 70th Hunger Games (part four)

There's a TV broadcasting the games in the room and I watch in horror as a large pit begins to open in the sand and it swallows up Cameron who is not fast enough to get out in time... Annie is breathing anxiously, and I know that they need water, and they're so close to it.

"You're really tense Mr. Odair," I feel the cold white glove pressing around and I moan out in pain, "Hmm, you've really done a number on it. It needs to breathe, you know?"

He goes out of the room to collect some tools and I watch Annie, Ken, Roster and Clever near the water... one more death and their alliance is off, which, of course, terrifies me.

The doctor returns, "I have just been informed that the officials, want you to go under the knife... so you can keep performing."

"No," I try to move in protest but a little pink gas they put through my nose calms me down. I still try to speak out though, since I have no time for this and need to be watching the Games when Annie's alliance ends, "Please," my voice is so soft and the last thing I feel is the stare from twelve pairs of eyes staring at me and touching my groin.

What is Snow doing to me?

I wake, reality starts coming back slowly but I need it to do so quickly, so I shake my head and slap my face around. I don't have time to be here. They're almost at the top 8, Annie is almost safe in some regards, even though she's never been in more danger. I try to stand and I expect it to hurt but nothing does, not until look in a mirror and see what they've done to my naked lower body.

My crotch is engorged and as I feel around I notice most of it is fake, plastic. Snow had my penis enlarged. I want to take a scalpel from this room and kill someone. Kill someone for even being born in a place that tells its people to put plastic into someone and change who they are – for changing me!

I storm out of the room and run into a girl with tall light green hair. I know I've seen her somewhere before... but really, haven't I seen everyone from somewhere at this point?

"Oh, Mr. Odair," She blushes like she's embarrassed, "I um, well, odd place to run into someone like you in... I was just..." I look at her and try to connect the face to a name, "You see President Snow told me if I got a little work done, I'd get on the TV..." She looks at her feet, "I remember you told me I was fine the way I was but..."

"Effie Trinket," she looks up and nods to the name.

"I um," She blushes and begins to weep softly and I feel bad for her since the same thing was just done to me. Now we're both shells of who we used to be.

I press my lips onto hers because I feel impulsed and impassioned to do so, "Don't let it phase you Effie. Don't let them change you."

She continues to let out cries as she smudges away her lipstick, "But I have Finnick..."

"I guess I have too," we look at each other and try to figure out where the past five years have taken us. I look at her now, tall high heels, small pointy nose, no body fat, large breasts – only her eyes remain the same. Then I think of my engorged cock. What is the Capitol doing to us and why am I trying to force Annie into this world? I am just as selfish as every single person in this city, and it disgusts me, but not enough to get it over with and kill myself – I'm too deplorable for that.

"Don't give up."

I give her hug, it's all I can do before I rush back into the mentor's room, I slam into the TVs as Mags points to them with a worried face. They're at the water and there's the sound of a cannon. I watch in horror as a mace bludgeons Ken's head. Decapitating him. Annie screams as another cannon fires.

The scream terrifies me and ruptures throughout, but not as much as the statue of sand cracking above them all. Clever and Roster circle around each other and Annie hides in a corner. Screaming, mumbling things to herself and holding her brother's severed head in her hands.

"Annie!" I yell, my face now covered in angry, messy tears. I slam my elbow into one of the screens and feel my meal from this morning forcing its way back up. _She can't die now_. _She can't die now_. The statue moans as the tip of its arms begin to crack and flood the arena with crashing water. Clever gets swept away and drowns immediately.

Roster is unfortunately a fast learner. Annie paddles, now aware that Roster is focused on only her. She swims quicker and the odds might actually change to be in her favor because this_ is _a place for a girl from the water.

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><p><strong>Thank you for everything!<strong>


	29. The 70th Hunger Games (part five)

She swims underneath the water's lip and into its dark depths, Roster now assumes she is gone at least. Annie steadies herself like I taught her all those years ago, her breath falters and she attempts to relax in the water – put her mind at ease. I watch another tribute flail around as he struggles to figure out the balance of water, he'll be out of energy before the sun sets.

The girl I love goes to the top of the water for a moment, grabbing some water and then sinking down once more. Roster continues to float, fighting the current, but giving in to a rest. But there really is nowhere _to_ rest. No where to put your body down, nothing to eat. The water is at least safe.

I can't eat or drink anything, I literally stay perched in my chair the entire time and watch Annie float for the course of a full day. Mags attempts to get something inside of me but I know it'll just come right back up. My fingers poke the bags forming under my eyes in order to stay awake with Annie, if she must suffer then so should I. It's so weird to observe her like this, to pry into her face and try and figure out its meaning. She seems to be struggling with something, her eyes completely shut from the world and her arms occasionally massaging her shoulders.

Annie has finally given in and taken to the top of the water, you can see the remaining four tributes in the darkness of night. Only a moon illuminates them but they're all spread out. I'm not sure how this will go over with the crowd, a Hunger Games with no more weapons (most were lost in the initial rush). Either they are expecting the tributes to drown each other or suffocate on their own. But everyone is out of energy now, the course of the days has taken its toll on them all and their stamina now wanes.

They are fish in a fishbowl, all different colors, all scared. A loud scream carries out through the arena and into my ears. It's not Annie's but it is loud and desperate, the tiny girl from District Ten flails her arms as she starts to sink, unable to exert anymore energy into her legs. It takes a while for the cannon to go off, but everyone can hear her gasps for air, her last few breaths rising to the top. Annie gives up and covers her ears to sound out the noise and in doing so begins to sink to the bottom of the sandy bed herself.

I pound my fist on the screen, ready to break it. At this point I can't help my own emotions and I cry out for her, letting my own body sink to the floor in the safety of the mentor's room. My sponsor's money is depleted at this point and there's no way for me to leave with Annie trapped like this.

The Game Makers have obviously spotted the flaw in their plan, that ending the Games like this will leave people sad and possibly provide them with a mad victor. Roster's eyes grow wide as he finds himself unable to stop the sway of his body – it's pointless. A large whirlpool has formed, sucking the weak tribute from Eight down with it. The cannon is immediate.

Somehow the water has shoved them both to the middle, so they can watch each other die or end it right there. Annie comes back for a second, her face flickering with fight or flight-like realizations. Her and Roster lock eyes and Roster's face shows that he knows this will be the end if he does not kill her now. He lunges for her but Annie dives down quickly, holding her breath as the current takes its course.

Roster does what he does best, he fights it. But it is impossible to stop the power of nature and the water thrashes him around, causing him to slowly lose consciousness. His body attempts to swim against the current and fails, but Annie's training comes back to her and I watch her swim through the forceful water at an angle.

The boy's mouth opens with bubbles, as if to get one last word in. But Annie is stuck, by nothing really, just some invisible force that none of the rest of us can see. The very whites of her eyes shake with fear and her body curls inside itself, she refuses to swim anymore. She opens her mouth for one last second letting the remaining air in her lungs escape, you can't hear anything through the motion of the water but she yells _something_. I don't even know what it is, but her eyes reveal its intention. _Finnick_.

I put my hand over my mouth as I begin to cry, loudly. Because it's too much, too horrible that the last words on her lips are my name – my disgusting name that got her killed. Everything is over, the one ounce of joy I had whenever I returned from hell at the Capitol is now gone. Killed by the thing she loved more than anything. I feel a hand take hold of my chin, trying to get me to look up but I don't want. All I want is to grieve in peace.

But the hand is so soothing and gentle that I do look up, and for a second it is a dream. I know it is a figment of my imagination, that all I see of the empty fishbowl arena of a curled up, water-logged girl is just something my mind has concocted. That at any moment they will announce the winner and remove Annie's body to be sent home in a casket with her brother.

Even my ears lie to me, "The winner of the 70th Hunger Games: Annie Cresta!"

I breathe in deeply, trying to place the words, trying to figure out what they really said. But there is just a girl laying on the ground, no other bodies remain. She sits motionless, eyes still shaking, breath still rampant with water spilling out of it. My little Annie. What have they done to her?

Large hands quickly direct me to a hovercraft, and even though I know it's flying faster than anything in this world it still feels too slow. Annie is lifted into the machine her body still curled and strange. I move to run to her, crying and yelling at the arms holding me back into a room that only separates her from me with a glass panel. They attempt to push life back into her but she refuses to accept it, moving briefly but falling back onto the bed and pushing her knees to her chin.

I follow her motionless body into a more permanent room where more tubes are connected, more medicines applied and more doctors stand ready to fill her with life. After what must be an entire afternoon they permit me to see her, and I push through without hesitation.

My arms take Annie and I hold her, hold her like the rare creature she is. I stroke her hair that they have brushed out, and angry that they're still trying to change her, I begin to knot it into snarls once again. I kiss her lips and pray for the Annie I once had to come back. I even whisper sweet nothings to her, promises to her unresponsive face that if she comes out of this I will love her forever, have children with her, marry her. But nothing works.

I take my rope in order to calm my own mental brink on sanity and never once leave her side. When I need to excuse myself for the restroom I do so with the door open, so I can constantly watch the rise and fall of her chest. I get to the point where when I tie the knots I can do so with one hand while the other works to clench hers. Various people come in to see me, some for interviews, others for condolences, and still more for various favors. But I never leave her side, I never will again. I hold Annie just as she held me after my Games. I will never stop owing her, for always picking up the pieces of my mistakes.

A hand presses down and rubs out my shoulder, "Oh, Finnick... I am terribly sorry but they need you to do an interview with Caesar since Annie... can't. You will need to take the crown in place of her," I look up at Thomps who has Mags standing behind him. She offers a sad smile, one that clearly states she will watch Annie in my absence. I take a deep breath and accept my new role. Never will I say "no" ever again.

It's so hard to leave the room, to break from the long kiss I give to Annie. My own mind is probably just as damaged as hers but I don't let it show, hopefully not anyways because I can definitely feel my own eyes darting around frantically as Caesar introduces me back to the Capitol people and my reality.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading!<strong>


	30. Drowning - XXX

"Finnick Odair!" Caesar allows the audience a few moments to cheer before settling them down, "Only five years and you have your first victor. So, how does it feel?"

"Amazing, I'm thrilled for that girl," I smile. _Actually_, _I hate it because love of my life is reeling over in anguish_. And that is all my fault.

"I bet you are, oh! Could you give us some details on little Annie's recovery, we're all so worried for her?" _Details_? I want to spit on Caesar. _No_, _you can't have details_,_ just leave her alone_.

"Well, the Games affect us all, Caesar. Annie is still water-logged and after watching her own brother lose his head, the road to recovery should be a long one, sadly," I shake my head to everyone watching, each camera. They should know how it feels, but they never will.

"Why don't we switch gears for a moment, though, and watch a recap of the Games! You can even tell us some of the exciting things that were going on backstage!"

"Oh, of course!" I smile and laugh with the colorful man as if it's natural. People respond with roars of applause and I hate every single one of them. _Go kill yourself_, _all of you_. Maybe then humanity can escape this hell you've brewed up for it.

But we still watch the Games, since my fake Finnick told him to. I am forced to watch my little Annie go through the pain I caused her to feel. The monsters who are in charge of editing continually rewind to the moment where Ken is decapitated and they focus in on Annie's face – the moment her last straw of sanity is removed. Then they cut to her swimming, the whirlpool, everyone drowning and her yelling my name underwater. Every second tears me apart all over again, but I'm not a victim – I am a criminal living with his consequences. Someone only "sorry" after he's been caught and punished.

I smell something odd, something metallic and from my instincts I know an enemy is nearby. I could probably do it, right now with my hands. Kill President Snow. Snapping his neck might be more effective than choking him since I'm sure the guards would shoot me in the head before the deed was complete. But what would any of that accomplish? Annie would be stuck, alone, and killed in some horrible way. And that will _never_ happen.

Snow hands me the crown and looks me evilly in the eye, but his smile is what's more daunting. He moves his neck to get a better look at me before leaning in and getting his stagnant breath stuck in my nose, "Aren't you a lucky boy... I wouldn't let it happen again, Odair."

Acting is so easy, I laugh good-heartily and the audience believes he's told me a joke. He offers his hand for a handshake, I give him a lackluster shake and then turn to the audience holding the crown above my head and smiling with the small sense of a triumph, "For Annie!"

The death glare from Snow still finds me, even when I've returned to the beaches of District Four. At least this time Annie is with me, safe in my arms. Her body might not be speaking or moving but at least it is with me, where I might protect it from harm.

I brush through her hair with my fingers, continually knotting it and unknotting it. I let her sit in her favorite spot, right where she always soaks in the sun. My cheek feels at home on her soft skin as I attempt to keep things normal between us, "Oh, Annie, Today was great. There were all your favorite fish in the water, and they all swam around me as if wondering where you were. I couldn't bring myself to shoot even one of them, they were so beautiful, Annie, they miss you."

"Annie, I love you," this is all I can say and I think it's more for my benefit than hers.

I lay her head in my lap and begin braiding her hair, her eyes flicker open sometimes but I think she prefers to shut them. Her hair falls with hundreds of braids here and there, intricate ones, loose ones. Finally, when her entire head is tied up I let each of them out and little waves of hair fall out over her shoulders. I lean back trying to put myself at ease. _Oh_, _Annie_, _where are you_? But I know exactly where she is because I once trapped there as well. She's stuck in her head and it takes every bit of strength in your body to pull out of the nightmares that live there.

Eventually, I move her body, leaning her carefully on the brown rocks that now sprout flowers for the fall months. Then I jump into the water, as I do everyday. But it's not the same without Annie, nothing is the same without her by my side. The water is dark, cold and empty without her feet to kick it up. I dive deep down with a heavy breath and grab armfuls of clams. I bring them to shore with me and pry each individual pearl open.

No pearls.

Annie loves pearls, and they're her birth gem as well. I kiss the back of her head, "You know, when I find the pearl Annie... I know you'll come back," I stroke her hand as we continue these days in silence.

This is every single day – none of them are like the days before the Games. They're not innocent because now we both suffer. I whisper to Annie, I call her name like she did to me, but I know she's wrestling the images, trying to make the screams stop so she can hear the strange voice off in the distance.

I tell everything to Annie, about my days, simple things like buying bread in the market or running into her mother. We sit and I talk about Mags and her recovery in the hospital – she had a stroke while I was watching over Annie so she's recuperating all on her own, but she mumbled for me to stay with Annie. Still, I can't leave the only two people left in my family.

Annie gives off little motion, but she knows I will never give up on her. I will always sit her and talk to her, pull her out from her fears just as she had for me. Her hand is placed on my chest in my hopes that it will remind her I am here, that we are both alive and our hearts beat on.

"Come back to me, Annie, please, I love you."

At this point I know she will come back on her own time, and that I am just filling in time for myself. I dive in to get the clams and everyday is like the last. Not perfect, but not horrible. Just a day of our lives spent waiting. Annie always said I was patient, but I've never longed for her like this with every inch of my being yearning for her smile, her bright eyes, her love...

I stroke her hair as I crack open a clam, the white little pearl falls out only to taunt me. It brings me to tears and I can't help myself – this is the punishment Snow wanted for me, to be so broken without the love of my life. Annie isn't back yet and she might never return.

My voice screams out the vast sea of water and I feel everything start hurting, my impassioned rage continues, "Annie, I love you so much," I shove the pearl into her hand making her feel its soft texture, "Look even our lady, the sea wants you back, she gave you this pearl..." and now my voice starts choking on the words again, "Oh, Annie I -"

"-love you."

...

I have to stop. Was that her voice? It _wasn't_ mine. Slowly her head tilts back to reveal those beautiful sea green eyes and I can't contain myself. My smile wides and I grasp her at the waist spinning her around in my arms.

She screams and out of panic I stop immediately. Did I hurt her?

Her body falls to the ground and she instinctively covers her ears... but at least she's moving... she's showing emotion. This is the same position she took after Ken _died_.

I hold her arms and try to talk, soothe her back to reality, "Annie, come back to me, the Games are over and you're here with me now. No one can take you, no one. I am here Annie," I speak softly and in the calmest voice I can muster, "Come back to me, please, Annie."

Slowly her hands drop and she laughs awkwardly and she laughs awkwardly with her head perched to the side, "_Finnick_, the sea horses told me that pineapples are ripe this year..." Her eyes look deeply into mine.

What is she talking about? Her face is worried, afraid of something – like maybe I won't believe her, or I'll think she's mad. But I won't let her get off that easy so I smile warmly, "Of course they did Annie. You've always been so clever like that."

She smiles and falls into my arms and finally I kiss her to the point where we can't stop. We enter back into our passion and share our lips with each other. She's the one who pulls away and it's so abrupt it scares me, "I talked to Sedna for you... when I closed my eyes, and she said you were a good brother."

I look at her, _oh_, _Annie_, what's wrong with you? Sedna is dead and it actually pains me to say in my mind. What could possibly be going through your head right now to get you to say such a thing, such a random, unsettling thing?

"Let's go swimming Finnick," she pulls on my arm quickly changing moods, "I have a friend I want you to meet," It doesn't make any sense, her face is still the very same face, the same questioning, innocent face. But something is completely off about her.

"Let's go Annie," I don't let my trepidations shine through, if she wants me to be happy, so be it.

It feels amazing being in the water again, with her like it should be. We hold each other underneath the high blue sky, and the salted air. Together we take a look at the world below us and Annie motions for me to follow her. I'm so glad she's at least not afraid of the water after all that has happened.

She comes up for air next to a tiny dolphin, I'm not even sure how she's managed to find it. At my sight the dolphin gets ready to pounce as if he's seen my invisible trident. But Annie calms it, with a gentle, nonthreatening voice, "No, no, it's okay, Frankie."

"His name is Frankie?" I swim over and pretend nothing is amiss as Annie kisses it on the nose.

"Frankie just told me that you stayed with me everyday while I was visiting my brother and saying goodbye," she stops and her gaze beams straight at the shore of sand, "Is that true?"

I take her in my arms and the dolphin swims away, "Annie, I never left your side, and I never will. _Ever_."

As the day lumbers on I figure it best to reintegrate her to life here in District Four. So we journey over to the District Hospital to visit a grinning, toothless Mags. The Capitol has given her replacement teeth over the years but I guess she's had to take them out for the time being. Her eyes squint up into her smile and she eagerly greets Annie and I.

"Look who I found," I laugh as Annie and I embrace, I lay my head on Annie's who is still short enough to be below my shoulder.

Mags tries to say something but only a mishmash of words comes out and Annie looks at me with a quizzical expression. I can't help but chuckle since I somehow know what she said. After all these years, Mags and I have that bond.

"She's glad you're back Annie," I smile as Annie runs over to show Mags the pearl I found. She fondles it carefully and holds it up to the light going on about nonsense that Mags happily nods to. I hang back and observe and I feel safe... even though the two people I love most are injured and destroyed they are in front of me, touchable, and I know that as long as we're like this we can't be separated.

Mags takes a fork from her tray and begins mangling it, twisting it into a fish hook and attaching the pearl to it. I take the rope from my pocket, understanding her actions, and braid it into a fancy wave. We attach the pearl hook to it and I make sure it stays on tightly, then I tie it onto Annie's neck.

Annie touches it and gives a wide, romantic smile. After a while of talking to Mags we head home. We think it's best Annie moves to my house, she'll have her own that her mother has claimed, but I want her by me. All the time.

I finish carrying the last box of hers into my living room. Most of it is clothes, brushes and small trinkets like her grandmother's hand mirror. We've already unpacked her mother's items a while ago and she enters our house to say goodnight. Her hair has grayed and her eyes have sunken in though she can't be more than forty – the pain and loss of her children has aged her significantly.

"Oh, thank you, Finnick... For everything you've done," I take her into my arms and feel I should be the one thanking her. She's the one who has blessed me with the love of my life.

"You don't have to thank me everyday Ms. Cresta."

"But I do. You saved my little Annie," we smile and I offer her a seat in the house and Annie runs around unpacking things. After an hour of placing her dolls on the mantel of the fireplace she wanders over to us whispering to one of her imaginary friends.

Her hand goes to her hip and her eyes flicker with confusion, "Mom, Ken said that you left the stove on!"

I nod my head, trying to be as supportive as I can but Annie's mother starts to whimper and I squeeze her hand in order to remind her to hold back the tears. Annie looks at her sad mother and she starts making unjustifiable connections, I catch her hands slowly moving up to her ears and know I need to stop this before it escalates.

"No, Annie, it's alright. Your mother is _really_ happy, not sad."

Annie stares at us, turning her head like she does when she tries to rationalize things. Eventually her smile returns and she goes on walking, talking to her friend like nothing odd had occurred.

Her mother shakes her head and covers her mouth, tears drip down her wrinkled face, "What did they do to my babies?" I hold her steadily in my arms as I walk her back to Annie's house.

When I finally return I make sure Annie is still unpacking her items and not listening to me, I take a few breaths and calm myself, taking the phone off the hook and dialing up a number from the book I've been provided with.

"Hello? Chaff? Guess what, Annie is back."

"I can see your smile through the phone, Finnick, that's great!" His voice is strange over the odd medium but at its base it sounds the same.

"Yea, she's just been a little... _odd_, lately. Talking about ridiculous things, mumbling to herself. I just," I sigh, trying to find the right words, "It just seems like she's not all there, anymore."

"That sometimes happens, like with the mentors from Six. They couldn't handle the Games after so much mental pain, but I know you can do it and help her. You brought her out once, you know, keep trying I guess," he takes a breath and continues in a helpful tone, "You're a good man Odair..." then I can feel his smirk press through the receiver, "will it pain you to know that I'll get to see your ugly mug again in 7 months?"

I push my tongue on my cheek but smile at his salty humor, "Thanks Chaff... I guess you've heard then that they canceled the tour since she's _unstable_?"

There's something behind me, some odd little noise. I turn and see Annie sniffling and my eyes grow wide with anticipation and fear.

"I'll call you back Chaff," I hang the phone up immediately and turn to something I know is about to blow up.

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><p><strong>Thank you for your reviews, all greatly appreciated.<strong>


	31. Uncharted Seas - XXXI

"So, that's it then? I'm broken? I'm a mad girl from District Four who can't handle anything?" The tears start to roll down her face, and I begin to move to take her in and stop this thing before it expands but it's too late and she bolts out the door.

"Annie, wait!"

She's fast and I pursue after her, eliminating everything from my view and only watching her small body boulder on. My eyes can easily chase after where she's going and I watch every footstep but I am still terrified that she is running into the arms of danger. What a horrible human I am, to not notice she was listening, not checking my disgusting language.

Tonight is a horrible time for this to happen, for the stars to hide from the sky, for the waves to act up in spite, for the air to become thick. There is a storm brewing.

"Annie Stop!" My voice booms loudly over the crashing waves and rain, but she refuses to listen and instead splashes into the water.

"Let it kill me, Finnick!" Her voice is loud and she begins screaming, horrible, horrible screams that pick up over the sounds of the crashing sea. She grabs her head and thrashes it around, throwing herself onto a jagged rock and letting its rough edges gash into her body. I run with no hesitation to retrieve her from the unrelenting waves.

I eye the storm carefully, swimming out and throwing her over my shoulder. Letting the deathly screams destroy me as they sound in my ears. I get her onto the land and sit her down under an overhanging rock and I solidly hold her close to me. She continues to scream, but at least my arms prevent her from thrashing about anymore.

After a while her sobbing stops and her heaving slows and I try my best to bandage up the wound. Even if we're still close to District Four, it's not safe for us to go out right now... the storm has gotten very bad. I continue to relax her by planting kisses on her. My words aren't doing their job to soothe her even though I try as hard as I can.

"_I'm not right in the head_... it was hard enough hearing it from the mean girls all those years ago, but you, Finnick," she tries to push my arms away but I don't let her, "I can't believe this. Just let me go!"

I ignore her, "But what did I tell you about that, Annie? That those girls were only jealous of, jealous of how amazing and perfect you are," my arms keep her from fidgeting but it only seems to make her more upset, "And guess what Annie, you still are. You are just as amazing and perfect as you were before."

"Before what?" She spits out the words and I can hear her own inner commentary as the two Annies battle each other.

The emotion hits me, that I should tell her what happened and why she had to pay for it. But it's hard and I can't stop my voice from cracking, "Before I was the reason you and your brother were sent to the Games," this gets her to stop moving, she instead turns and watches me.

"What are you talking about Finnick?" She pauses and the old Annie is back, her face calms of worry for herself and changes into worry for me. Her fingers wrap around mine instead of clawing at them, "You can tell me anything..."

I grab both her arms as I lean my head down and shake it in disagreement, "But I can't Annie. I can't tell you anything. And I know now that I never will," I grab her closely and she snuggles into my body,"You will never be in danger again."

I can feel her heart slow as she comes back a little bit more, but her voice is just as desperate, "I love you Finnick."

The storm clears and I hoist her up onto the soft sand that congeals together and leaves imprints of our feet as we walk along it back to our home. By the time we reach the Village, Annie is sopping wet and I know she needs my attention still. I hold her hand and bring her up to the bathroom and draw water for a warm bath. It's odd, and in a way adorable, but her eyes continually look at me as if asking for reassurance of what she sees before her.

She tests her toe in the water and jumps back as I try to dry off some of her hair, "It's so hot, Finnick..." her voice grows loud, abruptly, "Oh, I don't want to be alone tonight, Finnick, please stay with me!"

I nod and without hesitation I carefully undo her dress in the back and slide it off of her body. Her skin isn't nearly as damaged as it had been in the past, with scars and bruises but it still gives off a damaged hinge. The dress is thrown into the sink where it drips down into the drain and I begin removing my own garments as well. I watch her with a slight smile as she questioningly pours bottles of liquid into the water, making it bubbly, purple, and smelling like roses.

Slowly I put my own foot into the scalding water. It burns my freezing legs initially but ends up feeling nice and silky on my calf as it warms. Then I push the rest of my body in, sand lays at the bottom of the tub and it's an odd contrast to the soft feel of the bubbles. I offer my arms to Annie and help her in, placing her so she is laying on the opposite end and staring at me.

She holds her arms protectively around her body, though I've seen her naked a million times. Her eyes stare with a hungering look as if she might bite my hand if I move too close. She looks just like the Annie I fell in love with, but now there is something strange beneath that surface. A different look in her eyes. No longer innocent but still not corrupt. It's hard to put to words.

I catch Annie smiling at me shyly. Her hands now wash off her legs with a bar of soap and she blushes when she realizes my gaze has moved down to her breasts. In response she sinks lower into the tub with a pout of a grin. We trade soaps and I clean both of us, rubbing Annie down along her back, rinsing out her hair as well as mine. Eventually she moves closer to me, making the water splash out of the tub and onto the already damp floor.

She leans her bare body into me, and I can feel her cold skin sticking to mine. She turns and gives me a kiss. For just that moment her eyes change back, back to the Annie I know, but with a blink it's gone.

We dry off, I gather her pajamas and help her into them. Her drying hair makes the pillows damp but I don't mind because for once she looks so peaceful. Our hands our locked together and our sleep is uneventful – a miracle for the both of us.

I try to slowly reintegrate her into her old way of life. I try not to act like a parent and instead let her do what she wants... whatever she feels might ease her tension. She has this odd habit of lighting matches, staring at the heart of the fire and then placing the burnt match back in the box. Lately whenever I've gone to the kitchen for a utensil I've found the forks missing, it's only until I check the upper cupboard that I find them all pointed the same way and stacked neatly.

Annie takes her sweet time recovering, she sings these little songs to herself wherever she walks around and luckily most people try not to stare. In the town she'll sometimes yell at or hide herself in my shirt from people she's known all her life only to skip away happily three seconds later. I know I'm not the same Finnick after the Games and I shouldn't expect her to be the same Annie, but I'm so selfish that I really push for her recovery.

There are only a few more weeks before the next Hunger Games, obviously since they've canceled Annie's victory tour they don't expect her to mentor at all, she'll be one of the victors that everyone just forgets about – which is good for her. I'd rather have people forget about me too. But since that will never be my reality I settle with filling our remaining days together with laughter, ease and a touch of normalcy.

Today I've promised Annie fish cakes and shrimp salad, two of her favorite meals. She stands in the kitchen moving the forks around when I kiss her goodbye, I figure we could use some good bread to go along with the meal and leaving her alone for twenty minutes won't kill her. On my walk to the town I pass by Mags' house and pop my head in to say hello.

I see her sitting in a wheel chair staring at the television that broadcasts some god awful Capitol soap opera. Keeping as quiet as I can, I walk over to her and wrap my arms around her, she lets out a snort as she quickly turns to see who it is.

"Mags, I can't remember anything after the fall... All I know is that I am in love with you but, you see, my sister just informed me you're – _you're my aunt_," I try not to smile as I mock some of the dialogue they use in these things, "I think... I think it is time for my life to _end_."

She hits my arm as I laugh at her shows, but at least it makes her smile. Her hand points to the seat next to her and I take it. It's my cue to talk about what I'm doing with my life now since it's clear to see what Mags is doing with hers.

My smile falters a moment, "I'm still trying to get Annie _back_, here..." I take a deep breath and close my eyes trying to reject all the horrible thoughts running through my head right now, her hand moves to my chest and I realize she is tapping on my heart, "I know, Mags. She is in my heart everyday and I just want her to be safe. I just -"

I pause and collect my thoughts. What _do_ I want?

For a moment I laugh, because the question should be so simple. But the thing I've been fighting for all this time, this Game I've been playing to keep Annie safe and alive has only ended up being my cowardly way of helping myself. In the long run, "I don't even know what I want, Mags."

I look at my hands in my lap, attempting to connect all the lines that have imprinted them to the original stroke. And here I am, a grown twenty year old man, sitting with an elderly old lady who is his only way of calming himself since he can't stop crying and letting everyone know he's the victim.

But he's not a victim at all. Annie, the only person he can love in this world, _she_ is the victim. And all he does to protect her is actually fighting against him and hurting her, dropping her farther into a world not built for people like her. It'd make a great soap opera.

"I should leave, Mags," I pick myself up and head back out on the main road into town. People pass by me quickly, young girls in small sundresses giggling as they catch my gaze. I smile at them, but not happily. It's more of a grimace even though I'm trying to be more positive.

I head into the bakery and the smell of frosting fills my nose. The young baker girl greets me with a big smile, "And what would you like today?"

Skipping formalities I head into my order, "Give me the large one, over there... and... the dark brown one up front." All bread tastes the same to me but some people beg to differ, even in the other Districts I thought they were the same. Ours has seaweed wrapped into it but that's the only major difference I can spot. The girl hands me a bag filled with my breads and I head home, hugging the warmness of the fresh grains.

"I'm back, Annie..." I open the door and immediately freeze – my fisherman's sense is tipping off on something. When the air changes scents or temperatures and the waves crash slightly different in signals that something is about to go horribly wrong.

And then my eyes catch it as I walk into the kitchen, taking a moment to examine the scene before me. Blood. On the floor, on the fish set out, on the knife. I move slowly as my breath comes out loudly and at a feverish pace. My hands shake when I use the counter to pull myself around to behind the island where Annie does her cooking. She lies there on the floor.

My eyes flash and I don't know what to do, I want to run, I want to yell but none of it seems right in the moment and my thoughts are far too jumbled to get a grip on the situation. The bread falls to the floor as I lose my handle on everything, I drop as well barely bringing myself to feel her cold hands and the lack of pulse within them.

Then everything hits me. I sling the girl over my shoulders and run, I run as fast as I can. Through the market, past the water and into the hospital, shouting and demanding people to work without a grain of worry for their feelings. Because in this moment there's only one thing I know: that the last bastion of hope and happiness I have in this world is very well coming to an end.

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	32. Fathoms Below - XXXII

Doctors command me to leave as they put tubes into her arms and begin stitching things -it's just like it was on the hovercraft. Several nurses emerge and get me to stand in the hall to tear my eyes away from the girl. I pace the floor and I know I must be terrifying them, victors are typically relaxed people but there's no question that they're all trained killers, with the exemption of Annie. At any moment my mind can switch to the Games and I can kill anyone who dares stand before me and my resolve.

The basic shock wears down and eventually it boils to a question, eating away at me and leaving my mind torn. Was this Snow's doing... or? My mind shudders to consider the alternative, was it Annie?

It'd be so easy to blame Snow, to point fingers at him and hate him just a little more. But I don't think it _was_ him, and just knowing that drives something deep, sharp and pointy inside me. I shake my head and try to appear "listening" to the doctor who updates me on Annie, but all I want is to go in there and throw myself at her feet. Beg for forgiveness.

"It was a suicide attempt," the words actually permeate me and I look up, "You saved her."

"Why would she do it?" I turn to the Doctor and hold him by the neck of his white coat, "What have the Games done to her?" It goes downwards from here, turning into a full out rant, "She's with _me_, and we're finally safe and together! Nothing can come between us now, but one moment she's there and the next she's gone, the girl I love is _gone_!" My anger turns to inner turmoil as I start cursing the world, "I can't keep playing these damn Games!" All the emotions stew together inside me and culminate to the point where I pick up a chair and toss it into a window, shattering the glass and finally letting my "scene" come to a tipping point. A few doctors start to scream and the peacekeepers come over to suppress me.

They start to mumble together and I here one propose they take me to the Capitol for rehabilitation. I know victors who have been there before, where the Capitol locks them up until they've calmed. Annie was there for a month before they decided it was a lost cause.

Their hands reach for me but I won't let them take my life, I start yelling incoherent things as I push back into the hospital for Annie. My mind spins and I open doors to rooms filled with new mothers, injured factory workers and sick children. All I know is that I need Annie. I need her. There's no where to go at the end of the hall and someone has grabbed onto me, out of instinct I elbow the person in the face and start fighting.

More hands are on my shoulders again and I can't help screaming, "no," as they gather and overpower me,"I won't leave Annie," but none of my pleas are heard. My mind has now given in and I am back in the Games. Trees surround me and all these people, some friends trying to help, all become enemies and mutts that stand between Annie and me going home. I punch one of their faces and a white mask falls off to reveal an older man, not a child. It startles me but my mind still doesn't relent.

I _am_ back in the Hunger Games. My greatest fear. And Annie is here with me, somewhere.

Now I am hysterical, and I grab one of the bodies and smash it into the floor kicking in the skull as hard as I can. It can be anyone, anyone who is enemy... but they all look like Snow. The man I despise but am so terrified of I will never fail to submit to. I can feel the tears roll down my face as the shaking commences, but it is nothing compared to the screams that begin to sound in my head.

"Make it stop!" I yell to no one in particular, no, it is to someone... I think I yell this to the person controlling my mind. I give in, just like Annie does because the screams are too much, the screams of my parents, my friends, Mags and _her_...I hold my ears and sink to the ground, I don't even yell words anymore I just yell and the tears continue to violently fall. This is what they want. They want me to break.

I am trapped with no way out, so I do the only thing I can think of to end it – I attempt to end my own life. I grab my hair and try to rip it out, not even thinking straight enough to fashion a noose or grab a knife. My knees curl to my chest and I thrash around until I feel a burning sensation.

And then slowly, everything fades. The pain fades, the screams fade. For a moment I am at peace, everything: my mind, my body, my heart are all at once calmed by some dripping world dimming around me.

But the freedom goes away once I think of Annie and I find myself trapped, unable to awaken. Large finger like objects curl around me in this new world and I am alone, everything is dark. Water does not lap at my feet but instead bites, stinging me like poison. The earth is jagged around me and I find myself on the edge of a cliff, alone, with no world to return to behind me. Nothing aches directly except for a pin pinpointing my heart and its enough to get me to look down at the abyss before me, to look at the dark future my life holds.

I get ready to jump. It's the only way to end everything, to help Annie find her peace and take my own. My feet leave the group and I know I am flying, falling, but my body is hitting the air hard to enough to give some sensation of flight. The rocks poke up at me and I accept my death and the relief it will bring. But as I collide with the earth and my body prepares to be severed my eyes open.

The world is no longer dark but bright white, still it brings no peace to me, rather it makes me more upset. Upset my attempt on my own life was purely fictional. If I am about to die I should do it at Annie's side. I should find her, kill her and die with her next to me... maybe the afterlife is more forgiving.

I slowly move my legs over the bed, they feel like logs, thick, heavy, useless logs. This time I attempt to move my head but my eyes roll back as the swift motion brings on a headache. I am weak and it is nearly impossible to even prop my own body upwards. There's a nagging sensation in my arm as I turn to find a needle, the label is small and hard to read on the bluish liquid.

Morphling. I know from a number of victors that their winnings go to this in order to numb their pain. Each of us have our own painkillers from the Games don't we? I wonder what mine is, I mean, I sometimes drink with Chaff and Haymitch, which is sometimes calming but I don't do it enough to really leave a lasting effect. Sex is just a painful chore, thanks to the surgery. This morphling is nice, but looking at some of the others who swear on it, I'd rather not get involved.

I am selfish because I think my only real cure _is_ Annie. Am I her cure?

Regardless, I need her now... whether I kill us or turn away at the last second I need to do something. My legs are starting to work again as I walk across the white room. There's a mirror placed in this room, it's odd and I wonder if it was placed here because of me – because of who my persona says I am. But I certainly don't look like the Finnick they expect right now. My lip is torn on the left side and I can tell they've tried to patch it up but with the bruise over my eyebrow it looks out of place. All over my body are large welts that change from purple to black to yellow all at my touch. I am disgusting, no better than I was after they pulled me out of my Games.

My reluctance shows when I place my hand on the doorknob, even though I know it's keeping my from reality I don't want to take the medication from my arm. It's nice, and the moment I do remove it something will definitely beep and give away my attempted escape.

But I do it anyways, tearing it out with a pop and pushing through the door. I only get one look of the hall as I exit through and I all I know is one thing. This isn't the hospital in District Four.

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	33. A Broken Man - XXXIII

My feet move quickly, regaining their feeling, as I tear down the hall and try reading the names on the wall. When I reach the end of the corridor I know there's been no Annie, I would have recognized the letters. She must be somewhere else, they're probably keeping her from me until I apologize or pay for my indiscretions. I open the door and continue on to find her only to be caught in a barrage of lights and people.

Cameras, peacekeepers, Capitol figures. All start screaming when they see me, each with their own plea they'd like to state. The peacekeepers are the first to move, some to push back the crowd and others to near me. Their voices get tangled in one another's and I can't pick out just one or what their source of protest is.

"Free Finnick!" One girl yells above them all. Another yells, "It's unfair." The peacekeepers attempt to calm them but the cameras push through and swarm me, "What were you thinking when you attacked Annie Cresta and the peacekeepers?" _Attacked Annie_? "Do you think you became mentally unstable when Ms. Cresta did?" _Mentally unstable_? "Was this all caused by the fish in District 4?" _Fish_?

I push my way through the cameras, brushing them all off and attempting to leave through the front door. I know I'm in the Capitol now, but I don't know why. A peacekeeper grabs my arm and at this point all I want are answers and to stop being manhandled, I spit on his shoe and he responds by bludgeoning my face with a baton.

I steady on the floor, fresh blood now dripping from my face as I try to regain my poise. But it's hard since now the room is spinning. "What are you doing to him?" The voices continue, "You're making him unpretty!"

My body being lifted up and propped into a limo. The world sways with my head as the door closes and the noise shuts out. The plush seats offer relief to my bruised tailbone. But it is brief because I smell something odd in the car. I assume the metallic scent is just my blood until I see President Snow. Sitting there, smiling his unnatural grin.

Maybe I can get away with being mentally unstable since I am. I literally have no control over the anger that courses through me and the words I spit out, "I'll rip that smile off your face!" The car stops, but Snow motions for it to keep moving as if my threat is petty. I continue, still attempting my strong voice but finding it cracking when I say her name, "Where's Annie?"

"Oh, you broke a rule Finnick, a very big one," He tosses me a soft white towel and I hold it to my nose as his gloved fingers circle around a glass of something clear.

My breathing gets faster and faster and now I know I'm crazy. What little control I once had over my actions and moods is now gone. I slump my head into my lap and begin crying, loudly, and there's nothing I can do to stop it, in between sobs I accost him, "You leave Annie alone!" I look at his face, his horrible white puffy face. So hideous, but so intimidating and all the strength leaves my body. I don't look up, I give in and stare into my lap. "Where is she?" My voice is pathetic.

He chuckles with satisfaction, "You're so weak... but I like you Mr. Odair so this is your last warning. The girl is fine, but understand that any more outbursts will result in a new type of punishment for you both. I _will_ have your submission," he looks out the window and I notice the banners that wave with the face of a new victor, "You've been asleep some time."

I start rubbing my eyes and trying to clear out my pain. But it's confirmed, that as long as I am alive, Annie will always be in some form of trouble. That Annie is no threat, but I am. That they will keep her to get to me.

"Ah, we're almost here," He stretches out his collar and nods to me, "Your prep team is waiting, your appearance will be needed later," there is some type of satisfaction in his smile though anyone looking on might assume he really cared for me, "I thought you were supposed to be the most handsome victor ever, but something about you right now... well, I'm not sure who would want your company."

The car stops and a door is opened, there is no choice, I am being dismissed. The bright sun reflecting off of the buildings blinds my eyes and then I recognize the shape. Why is he sending me to the mentor's hotel? Have the Games starting already? It doesn't make sense if I haven't even met my tributes yet.

Noqall runs over to hug me, kissing my on sight, "Oh, we thought you were dead! Dear, you look horrible, but don't worry we'll fix you!" I drop the rag and move slowly, like a zombie, following her into a makeup room.

She mixes colors of liquids and smooths them over my skin, some of course sting while others relax. I can't help but think of her as a witch from the old stories my mother used to read me, mixing and brewing potions.

Proud of her work she spins my chair around and I has me look into the mirror. I look beat down, disgusting and sick. Noqall must see my dissatisfaction because she goes back in and gives my hair a little trim, adding extra makeup to my face. The scars are now mostly invisible, but I still can't get over how absolutely average I look. How weak and pitiful.

She helps me out of the chair since my body aches and stitches me into the suit. I can hear the voices of mentors laughing from the room over. Noqall is about to dismiss before she grabs my hand a moment longer, looking into my eyes.

"They lied to us, didn't they Finnick? For six months they told us that you and Annie had gone crazy... at first they said it was the fish, so we all stopped buying it, but then they told us it wasn't and you had just fallen down some stairs bumping your heads... the story changed so quickly, we didn't know what to believe," her eyes quickly dart around the room before quickly adding, "But it's not my business."

My eyes try to adjust to the dim blue lighting as I leave the room. There's the loud electronic music they play in the Capitol at informal parties. For a moment I watch, I just stop and look at all the mentors, laughing, getting along with their lives unlike me. I head over to the bar and find a very angry looking Chaff.

"What's wrong?" I ask. He looks up and his face completely changes.

"Finnick, you're alive! And Annie?"

I nod with a shrug, "For all I know." I don't smile and instead stare into Chaff's face even though it's near impossible to see at this party. My teeth clench and I make myself promise to stop crying today – it's time to pull myself back together, "I can't wait to be back with her," I sit down in the chair next to him, "What did I miss while I was out?"

He tries to laugh for a moment, "You spend too much time in the hospitals," but then he relaxes on the humor sensing I'm not in the mood, "there's a new victor, first female one from District Seven... she really surprised everyone. Mags did a fine job in your place."

"Well, I'd hope so, she only helped Annie and I win our Games," I brush him off even though I know he didn't mean it that way. Everything I see through the eyes right now, or hear through these ears just makes me more and more bitter... and I can't explain it. It's probably the medicine wearing off.

I feel a very drunk and smelly arm snake around me, pulling Chaff and I closer together.

"Have a drink!" A very drunk Haymitch spits out.

Chaff eyes him angrily and Haymitch cockily shrugs in response, "Not my fault your liver is failing – mine is doing fine! Shots for everyone!" He cheers. And that's why Chaff is mad – no drinks. I should probably go his route tonight, to not drink anything and keep a clear mind.

"Hey how's Annie?"

"So, are you really crazy?"

"Annie is _mad_, huh?"

I look at the mentors before me. Seeder, Cashmere and Gloss. I want them to leave me alone. I want everyone to stop talking about everything. I grab one of Haymitch's shots, one that I know will kill the brain cells talking to me in my head... but I really haven't gauged its strength and since it _is_ a Haymitch geared shot – and he has the infamous "iron liver" – I quickly learn I do not possess this.

I stumble through the smoky room. Intentionally squeezing a few ladies here and there and giving them my flirtatious smiles. I feel like "Finnick" again, the one they want. My brain keeps yelling at my hand to stop grabbing these drinks, but I can't seem to stop, and soon the voices stop and I am free to drink whatever I want. I look around the room. Everyone is either dancing, or the room is just swirling.

Victor parties always suck since I hate all the people here, except for a select few. They disgust me and I take a few sips of a new sour drink and allow it to tantalize my brain again. Then it hits me as I look out at the crowd: I don't even know half these people!

"Hey, when..." I hiccup without my control, "When did you become a victor?" I look at the strange, tall man. He's wearing these glowing glasses and I try to tap him to get his attention, but he's really skinny and I end up just knocking him over. A loud crash causes people to look over at me, "Is this guy with anyone?" I laugh and I don't know why... but I find everything to be so hilarious all of a sudden – this girl's hair, that guy's beard... I look at it closer, the furry creature and I keep moving towards it.

"Why are you touching my beard, you creep?!" I hear a loud angry man boom. Is that Chaff? I don't know, it's all a mystery to poor little Finnick. I start twirling the long graying hairs in my fingers. It feels like a sheep – no a lamb. What's the difference anyways? Eventually his good arm finds me and pushes me back.

I stumble backwards and everything is getting hot all of a sudden, like I am being suffocated and the drink in my hand becomes the only thing to quench me in the heat of a desert. A desert? Wait, that's no place for a fish! I drink the rest of the odd mixture as sweat drips from my brow, the beads look blue almost... and I can't take it. It's too hot. My hands fumble to hold on to a table as I try to rip my shoe off. But I just can't seem to get a proper grip though.

Without knowing why I take a second to bend over in laughter. Because it's so funny! Finnick can't get his shoes off... Luckily I eventually dig with the front of my other foot into the back of my heel causing the shoe to slip off and I don't need to do anymore work. I don't even bother with the other one. I only attempt to unbutton my jacket and throw it to the ground. Bye jacket! I wave as it slowly falls to the floor. Slowly slowly.

Then I struggle with my shirt and these buttons turn to some type of barbed wire that hurt my fingernails when I dig into them. I decide to just rip off the shirt and throw it at some girl's face. Then I give her a big grin as I walk over to her, shirtless.

"You wannahavesomefunorIdunno..." She gives me a weird look and pushes me backwards in a familiar manner. I take it this must mean she wants my sugar cubes which I know I stuffed into my pants earlier in the makeup room. With another snort I undo the tedious belt and swing it around my head in a joking manner.

"Woohoo!" I look at the girl seductively, licking my tongue around my entire face. I know she loves it. Like I do with some of my other customers I take my thumb and rub it down my chiseled abs. Shortly after she starts to turn away and I let my pants fall. I go up behind her, giving her a hug and feeling upwards... and it's so odd, she has very small breasts for a woman. I give her arms a stroke and I try to whisper suggestions to her, "Hey baby... maybeyoushouldshave?" She pushes me angrily back and I stare back in disgust while blurting out whatever old thing comes to my mind, "You're _sohairy_!"

"Finnick! GO HOME, you're drunk!" Oh, it's Chaff's voice again, and man, he's so tense without a drink! I wander around for a bit. There are lots of cool colors to stare at but it's hard to walk, my pants are still at my ankles and they're so restricting that I can't move very fast, so I grab another drink.

"Oooh, this one's _green_," I spit out the words and I can hardly stand at this point. My head slumps downward, and the laugh attacks come back, but something causes me to look up and all I see is a blur of someone's white face mixed with jagged brown hair on top.

"What's up?" I give them a head nod, thinking that Finnick might get some action tonight after all! My eyes start to settle a bit and I can finally make her out. This time I am positive it is a female.

"I like your boxers," I blink a few times trying to process the words. Oh yea, I took off my pants.

"Thanks, I like your-" I stop, "Um." I hold my head and just kind of turn away from her. I can't think straight. Must have been something in the air, though, definitely not this drink.

"This party sucks huh?" I turn around and realize I'm still in a conversation.

"Suck?" I yell with a grin, "You want to suck it?!"

She just laughs in response, and I watch in confusion as she takes off her shirt to reveal some top notch breasts, if I do of course judge them myself, then I get even more excited when she removes her pants as well letting them hang around her ankles.

"Sweeeet." I hiccup a little more, and she holds out her hand.

"Hey, I'm the newest victor, name's Johanna," _Johanna_. I look at the hand. It reminds me of a squid so I touch each one of her fingers curiously.

"You're nice," I let the last word pull a bit when I hang onto her for balance, "I'm... I'm..." Who was I again? "I'm the King of the Sea," I sit down on the ground and awkwardly fiddle around with my pants pocket, I keep trying to grab them, but the lint gets trapped on my sweaty fingers instead. But I do find one and hold it out to her, "You want..." I take a step back, "You want a sugar cube?"

She takes one.

"Finnick Odair. I've heard stories about you," She is still standing there naked and I can make out her pleased grin, "I don't like clothes either. I find them restricting."

"Girl, we're going to be good friends," That's all I manage before I turn to my left and puke up the entire night's food and alcohol. I hear a loud screech followed by some heavy, angry breathing.

"How DARE you!" I just stand in a bit of a daze, "I payed so much for -" And then it keeps coming. It falls down her cleavage and further into her dress as she startles back. I can hear Johanna cackling with glee as I grab to her for support only finding her large breasts.

"Oh, it's fine, Odair. Any man who can puke on a girl like that from the Capitol can surely hang on me," I laugh with her and look up to her face from my hunched position, finally seeing her blue eyes.

I don't offer any handshake. Just a high five, "_Awesommme_..."

"Let's get you home, Odair."

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	34. Johanna Mason - XXXIV

My eyes blink a few times. _What_. _The_. _Hell_. _Happened_.

I try to roll over but only groan out in pain as a large invisible force smacks my head and causes everything to break into a major migraine. I can hear a girl laughing from the next room. _Who the hell is that_? _Did I do something with her last night_?

A tall, strong woman walks into my room, naked, she holds a sizzling pan of eggs not even attempting to place them on a plate. Her spiky brown hair juts out from all over the place even though it's kept rather short except for two long bangs that hold down on the side. Obviously she's no Capitol girl.

"Good morning... you sleep a lot," she looks over at me with a smug look on her face.

"Um, forgive me for asking... but where are we?"

She takes a moment to laugh and then looks at me. She seems rather young, eighteen maybe. But her eyes tell stories that are of a much older person, "We're still in the Capitol, and everyone's heading home tomorrow. All the mentors, but me," she rolls her eyes, "I apparently have to stay and do _interviews_. You know, typical victor stuff..."

"Victor?"

"Uh, yea? I won the 71st Hunger Games? Johanna Mason? Or were you too drugged out and drunk to remember?"

"I was in the hospital for a while...?" I close my eyes shut for a long second, " Then I went to the party and holy shit my head hurts," I rub it and try to close off any light in the room from triggering any other side-effects.

"Mega hangover, huh?"

The TV in front of the bed clicks on and she pulls a few blankets around us. Johanna throws her fork into pan of eggs and starts chewing.

"That's me!" She points with her fork at the TV in between bites. They're replaying her Hunger Games, and she looks so different, the hair is much calmer, she talks so much softer... and it's like she is pretending to be weak. The complete opposite strategy I had.

Caesar looks at the little girl, almost rolling his eyes, as the shy seventeen year old talks about how "scared" she is. She scores a four in training and everyone has just about forgotten her by the time the games begin. We watch her run from the Cornucopia and there's about an hour filled of recaps with her just hiding and everyone else killing each other until there's only a few left.

The Gamemakers call a feast and I watch, almost in disbelief as she goes in with just a small ax. Then I watch with shock as she takes the ax and brutally murders two tributes in seconds. The other runs from her but it only takes her a day to find the girl and torture her in different ways.

And then Johanna Mason is crowned the victor.

"Incredible." It's my only word to sum up her games.

She smiles in satisfaction, "Well, we can't all win the Games by being_ incredibly good looking_," her blue eyes wink at me while poking fun at my Hunger Games experience.

"Hey, now... I've killed my fair share of people too. And you're not bad looking yourself, you know..." I give her a playful, suggestive grin and she throws a pillow at my face.

"Not even in your dreams, Odair!" She turns away and does a fake huff of annoyance only to return to me and cock her head to the side, "Well you've got to head out I presume... someone left a note this morning saying the president wants you making rounds or something. I got one too."

"Well, welcome to the club."

She snorts and we part ways but not without bashing other victors and making fun of them. We're both horrible, selfish people and I know this won't be the last time I see Johanna Mason. Our types of people always know each other.

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><p><strong>Reviews Appreciated.<strong>


	35. Web of Lies - XXXV

I don't receive any ground breaking secrets this round, actually I continue getting fed the things I already know: Snow is still a horrible person and his inner circle are all terrible as well.

The older lady who I've just defiled is still sitting on the bed, waiting for me even though we're already done. All I need is my "payment" and I can leave. In her face it's written what we've just done and she lights a cigarette only to puff it into my face as a reminder. She must think it's "sexy."

"I have a good one for you," she laughs after a while and I sit down, finally ready to get my gossip... though I assume it will be nothing interesting. She continues with hints of alcohol in her breath, "Snow _loves_ to hold galas for all his friends here... and future partners," She breathes out a long line of the smoke, "Well, one day he decided that some of them were no longer friends."

I stare at her curiously and she ventures on, "He poisoned all the glasses at that party. My first husband had been invited but he had left before the toasting to go to the bathroom. He said he noticed everyone drinking from the glasses, but not Snow. Yousoban refused the alcohol and said he was trying to cut back on it, which he wasn't, but he's a known cheating liar anyways. Well, he entered the room and asked Snow why he wasn't drinking, like it was the most normal thing in the world. That's when Snow got this look of anger on his face and was forced to drink the poison like the others to appear _normal_."

"How did he survive though?" I ask, sucked in to this story. _This is it_. This is the mother of the lies: this is how Snow came to power those thirty years ago.

"He took antidotes and medicine Finnick. The poison left burns and damaged the back of his throat... everyone else died mysteriously later that night... but rumor is you can still smell the blood on his breath. I think you'd have to be pretty close though with all that perfume he wears though."

My eyes grow wide. It's true, and the last bit proves that – every time I talk to Snow I smell something like blood, I know I do. My fingers tap with impatience. I want to tell the world right now. But there would be no point, Snow would kill Annie and I before we got the news out. Patience, my least favorite thing in the world, that is what I need.

"And then of course my first husband was killed because he knew too much... and so I married Gerorge, but he wasn't good enough for me, so I had paid to have him killed myself. And then I married my third husband who I married again after my forth husband, but my seventh husband was so jealous of him because he was my cousin..."

"Thanks, for your time."

She continues to talk as I leave the room and I thank whatever god there is out there that she is the last appointment. Now I have the day free, and normally I would use it to see Bex, but I really need to get home and see Annie, she needs me more than anything. And I need her.

...

I watch the wilderness pass by, it's interesting to look at some of the Districts when the train stops. District Two always looks hideous, covered with Peacekeepers, which I'm pretty sure I head they specialize in. There's a large rocky mountain jutting up above the District and it looms over the people's towns just screaming hopelessness since it blocks out the sun.

We finally arrive in District Four and I depart. The sky today is gray, and not sunny like it normally is. I walk through the town, and figure it must be a fishing day since so many of the women and children and running around. I pass by Nana Koa's old fishing supplies store, abandoned and deteriorating. Lots of stores are struggling right now since the economy has taken a bit of a dive as of late. Well, I know for fact people in the Capitol think the fish is bad because of me right now, and we didn't get anything from Annie's victory since she "refused" the tour.

I look at the City Hall, even the colorful symbol of our District seems a little gray today. Now it's District Four that emulates hopelessness. I head to the hospital wing only to find out that Annie has been discharged and sent to her Victor housing. The doctors are still weary of me, but after watching me interacting with people in a seemingly normal disposition they are more at ease. I can't shake the eyes of pity, though, that seem to follow me as I make my way home.

I knock on the door and Mags smiles and lets me in, Annie is sitting on her couch swaying side to side and humming her favorite song. My arms wrap around her body as I lean down to kiss her, "I've missed you."

Her eyes look at me for a minute, trying to determine something, and then she goes back to humming until the song is finished.

"You've been with the Capitol girls... I know," She doesn't smile or give off any emotion and it bothers me severely. I can't tell what she's making of anything since her face no longer reads anything of truth.

"Yes, but now I'm here for you Annie and I won't leave for as long as I can."

We eat dinner at Mags' house before I escort Annie home. Life becomes its pattern again, I dress her, love her, feed her, stroke her, swim with her, and never let her go. And for her part she loves me, kisses me and puts my mind at ease. Our old way of life will never return, we're much too damaged for something so sheltered.

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><p><strong>It's getting long. :)<strong>


	36. The 74th Hunger Games (part one)

Over the next two years things get slightly better. Annie is still recovering in her own way and in most situations she's functional on her own as long as no one mentions her trigger words. Over the course of the years I never once dare to double cross Snow again, I do my rounds like he wants me to. During the Games I've also been having more fun since Johanna Mason has managed to wedge into Haymitch and Chaff's drinking circle making all four of us closer.

Even the Games threaten to be exciting this year since Selkirk, the 23rd Hunger Games victor, is having me teach his granddaughter for the next Reaping. The old sea captain is grayed and arthritic at this point, and he's also managed to lose all his teeth due to the wad of tobacco he chews on so there's not much contribution on his part. But his granddaughter at least is nicer to look at and not a bad student. She's around eighteen and ready to live up to her family name.

We practice throwing spears in the water, we jog in the mornings, and I teach her what I know of foliage in the Games. No one knows what the arena will be this year, but it's fun to have a Career. She's not a bad girl either and she has the typical District Four physique and face. Annie likes her and I make sure to feed her on a specific diet of meats, vegetables and grains.

By the time the Reaping for the 74th Hunger Games rolls around, I know what to expect when she volunteers. It's even nicer too when a small twelve year old is chosen for the boys. This means I won't have any moral dilemmas to figure out when I'm planning out who gets the sponsors.

The two kids stare at Mags and I when we're on the train, and there's not much I want to say. It would be awkward going into full conversation with Somerly and not Armon. So we just stare. Eventually someone wheels coffee out and I take some, pouring a cup for Mags as well. Jokingly I throw the girl a sugar cube only to have her furrow her brows in confusion.

I know it's bad that all I want to do is get there, watch some kids die and leave... but that's really what I want. Annie and I are heading back to that peace we once had and it's such fragile process I don't want to ruin it. Thomps isn't a fan of our tributes though I do see him fawning over Somerly a bit more than Armon.

There's no strategy for the boy, and after years of sending sixteen kids to their death and only having one return my level of effort has significantly decreased. I halfheartedly tell him not to run for the Cornucopia or eat anything unfamiliar but I'm not really convincing myself at this point. Somerly already knows that the strategy on my part will be getting her in with the Careers but that's not too big of a deal... so we all, really, just go through the motions.

Even Noqall, who is always excited about something, doesn't really bother with them and instead gives them boring wave outfits to wear at the parade to which they receive lackluster support from. Back in the hotel as they finish their meals I start watching recaps of the Reaping. Not to see the competition but really to watch my friends interact with their tributes.

Cashmere waves proudly as her Careers are announced in District One. The girl is a spitting image of herself and she smiles widely in pictures with her. District Two shows Enobaria and several other of their bloodthirsty mentors cheering with their volunteered tributes. Looks like the Career pack is on this year. A mousy boy is called for Three and Beetee's only response is to fix his glasses. In Four there's no real reaction, we get a volunteer just like the first two Districts. Four is unsettled, no one is happy with the Games and I hear the talk every now and again but pretend to ignore it.

The other faces scroll by but at the end of it all there is something unique. I pause at District Twelve where the tributes they presented received an odd roar of applause this year at the parade. Their costumes went up in flames. I watch the tapes closely and smile as Haymitch falls drunk on the stage. Effie is their escort gotten her job, she must have gotten it a year or two ago since she is a little new to the microphone.

She places her hand in the jar and calls out a little girl, the fourth twelve year old for these Games. And then something extraordinary happens. Someone, in little District Twelve of all places volunteers, a strong but shaky voice belonging to a sixteen year old girl. She cries out for her sister and takes her place in the death match instead. It's kind of heart-wrenching to watch, like when Annie and her brother were called, only I don't know these people. But even if you don't know them you can read the pain in their faces as another family is torn apart.

"Katniss Everdeen has volunteered as tribute, ladies and gentleman," That name sticks... I don't know why since no one from her District ever wins but for some reason I feel like it's time to put an eye on Twelve and see how this goes over for Haymitch. Effie calls out a confused boy next and no one else volunteers though it's clear the kid has family. This will be an interesting year.

I coach Somerly briefly and by the time they do their training scores I really know what I'm working with. She gets an eight he gets a four. There will be no District alliance this year. The only words we share on the couch is a small conversation of me explaining that she's in One and Two's alliance and she will need to help at the Bloodbath. The boy makes no comment that he hasn't been included because we're not going to coat things at this point. No one wants to be lied to.

The rest of the scores play by and Chaff and Haymitch actually have an interesting batch this year. Chaff's boy, who looks ready to tear off the limbs of anyone in his way, receives a ten while his young districtmate manages a seven. But once again it's Twelve that takes the cake, the boy comes in with an eight and the girl with an eleven – an incredible eleven. If you didn't know you'd think she was a Career.

At the interviews she's the only one I watch, this "Girl on Fire" who Haymitch is pairing off with her districtmate. She holds herself up high for someone from such a sad District and she is almost unreadable. But where she's the strong one her partner is the charismatic one. Peeta, if I recall his name correctly, comes out and drops a good one on the audience – that he loves Katniss. I get a kick out of this, because this is a show... after Johanna no one has really put an audience through a loop like this.

Luckily the days are passing quickly and on the last one where I heartlessly say goodbye to my tributes I go to see Haymitch in the bar, but something in his eyes looks different and I notice the lack of a bottle in his hands.

"No drink?" I ask, pulling up a chair.

He grins at me, "I think this is it."

And I fully understand why he hasn't been drinking – he's going to keep her alive. People sometimes enter these Games looking like a victor and she has that look. Enobaria, Cashmere, Gloss, me. We have a look that people can bet on, talents you can stand behind, personalities that work, but we also have something in common that the Girl on Fire doesn't, for the most part we're all Careers. Though if she wanted to, I'm positive they could align her with any of the pacts.

I head into my TV room where Mags eats her lunch. We both share a collected sigh as I throw my feet on the table and spin around in my chair waiting for things to start. I turn and catch Cashmere looking at me with a grin.

"Back to the good ol' Career alliance this year, huh?" I joke.

She laughs, "Yep, you, me, and lovely Miss Enobaria..." she takes a seat near me and starts playing with my shirt, "I just adore the little girl from my District, you know?"

I chuckle because it's so obvious, "Well, she looks like you."

"Exactly," she catches my sarcasm and changes tunes, "Yea, you can laugh but I bet if they could find a boy who looked like you, you'd be jumping around, too," she looks off into the distance, "We've been training them both for a year now, no need to really reenforce anything this year."

"Lucky you. And Enobaria?"

"Oh yeah, they're both good ones, the boy volunteered. Eighteen and ready to go just like they like them. The girl is pretty nasty with her knives too."

"What did you think about Twelve this year?"

She closes her eyes to think for a moment, "Well, I'll always be rooting for another victor in One," she cocks her head towards me because she knows what I'm about to say, "And yes I want Glimmer to win... but it was exciting seeing Twelve up there like that, and Haymitch sober," she snorts, "that's an achievement all on it's own."

"Yeah, that's what everyone is saying," I lean back as the countdown starts, "Well, doubt I'll see you later, since you'll still be here and I really doubt my kids are going far."

She pats my shoulder, "Always next year."

I roll my eyes with a smile, "Oh yeah, can't wait to mentor for the Quell next year! Haymitch is a living advertisement for those..."

The whole thing gets me thinking... that this "Girl on Fire" can create a spark like Haymitch has been hinting at all these years. To think the Districts would rebel is ludicrous though. Maybe one, but not all of them. Still, the fire display, the volunteering for some too young. It makes you think. And it does because for a moment I'm not in the Capitol against my will mentoring hopeless cases, no, I'm in the water with Annie. Her finger is wrapped in a golden band and we splash each other in the waves, holding the small hands of a little child, I don't know if it's a boy or girl but it's definitely a child. And this is what I want for my life. I would throw my life at the chance to achieve that, and if I need to throw my life at Katniss Everdeen, I'll do it.

My happy thoughts are interrupted by cannons and I practically fall out of my chair. Already Armon has ignored my advice and is running into the Cornucopia like it's the most normal thing in the world. The Bloodbath ensues and Somerly joins in with the killing of several tributes, the Career pack is deadly this year. I watch for specific people, catching Chaff's boy, Thresh, taking off where no one follows him, Peeta, the boy from Haymitch, heading right into the woods.

Armon is still crawling around in the madness of the Bloodbath and even Mags rolls her eyes, I guess she has been doing this long enough to not feel at all sorry for those who don't follow her direction. I cringe, though, as the little boy stands up to leave with an ax in his hand only for a sword to slash him through his chest. Separating his legs from his torso, his eyes go still just like that.

I meant to look for Katniss but I failed to spot her amidst my own tributes doing _things_. The Careers start to gather and I figure the girl from Twelve must have run off to the safety of the woods.

This is usually the point where Haymitch and Chaff come into my room with booze, planning on picking up Johanna on the way. But not this time. Both of them still have their tributes, Johanna only has one and I only have one. I spin around in my chair and look up to the metallic ceiling. Mags points out that Peeta is now telling the Careers that he can help them find Katniss. It seems odd and I can only watch Somerly play with something in her teeth as the others become engrossed by Peeta's story.

It gets boring, especially because this year I've been extra apathetic. Thresh continues to stay in his field, Katniss continues to hide and look for water, and the others continue to hunt. Nothing exciting is happening and just like a Gamemaker I know I'm itching with boredom, waiting for drama and action. I head out into the Sponsors room, looking for some type of conversation that can entertain and I find just what I need, little Bex siting in a large chair with an exquisite gown wrapped around her.

"Well don't you look fancy?" I eye her curiously because she usually doesn't dress like this, she's decked in diamonds and jewels that would befit any of the regular women here. But she still keeps her old charm, the bow and glasses stick out like usual.

"I have money now Finn. Big money," Her eyes light up as she smiles, I'm still trying to figure out why she's talking in a funny accent, like she's trying to mimic the over-dramatic ones of the people around us. She extravagantly takes a sip from her wine, making sure her pinky is pointed, then she rolls her eyes with a snort.

"And why, all of a sudden, are things looking so highly for you?"

"Finnick, can't I have my own secrets?" She flashes a diamond bracelet in my face and smiles.

"Wonderful," I nod in an unamused voice.

She looks away for a minute, to search for something off in the distance, "We both have come a long way, haven't we? From children to adults, the things we have seen," She brushes my hair and motions for me to sit by her, "How's Annie?"

"Alright I guess, she's been getting better, but the attacks still come to her. I just... it's hard, because half the time she's happy Annie and if you say one thing that's wrong it's sad Annie. She's tried to kill herself, and every instance it terrifies me. Maybe I should let her, but I know I couldn't do that even if I promised it," I look at Bex's pained face, "All your victors go through hell after they win. Winning is a joke."

"Well, keep your chin up, Finnick. Times are changing, Eight is lighting a fire right now."

I look at her, is she trying to send some type of message to me? Even if she is I can't interpret it and how can someone like her possibly know anything about things changing? There must be people other than victors and the Districts who are fed up... but a Capitol Girl who literally bleeds money, I doubt she could be involved, even if she does know everything about everyone.

"Finnick, if you don't mind, I should get back to daddy. He is always asking me about what people are saying and how people are reacting to the Games. You know who I'm betting on?"

"The Girl on Fire?" It's a lucky guess and she nods on her way out.

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><p><strong>Thank you for the support!<strong>


	37. The 74th Hunger Games (part two)

I look up at the screen. The Gamemakers are now toying with Katniss as she runs from the growing fire in the forest. I cringe a bit as she gets hit in the leg but most of the other sponsors moan and pretend to faint. By the second time Katniss is injured I've had enough of this ridiculous room and I leave, walking over to Haymitch's room where I find him staring at his TV. He looks like he hasn't gotten any sleep, like I did during Annie's Games. There are wrappers left strewn on the floor, half-drunk bottles of juice lying about, he always could make a mess where ever he went...

"I can't do it Chaff... It's over. I hope she can figure it out herself because I sure as hell can't. They led her right to the goddamn careers," He slams down his head-phones which provides him with live feed only to turn and get a look at me, his face doesn't change though, "I thought you were Chaff."

"Sorry to disappoint. She's a smart."

"How would you know, you haven't met her?"

"No, but I've been in those games and we know victors think alike," I watch the screen as Peeta worriedly and sheepishly follows the Careers to a tree Katniss is climbing. Cato tries to scale up but falls. Haymitch changes his pose and watches carefully.

Peeta intervenes and asks to wait her out, for a moment everyone is suspicious, even Somerly. I wonder if Cato will buy it, though, he's the important one. They seem convinced enough to light a fire and fall asleep beneath the weaponless girl. One of them stays watch, I think it's Cashmere's girl. I get distracted as Chaff walks in, he's shaking his head and we can all see how much pain Katniss is in up in that tree. She continues to clench her leg and look towards the sky, look towards Haymitch.

"I don't understand why they just don't light the tree on fire. I mean that would get her to the ground or kill her," Haymitch and Chaff shoot me looks and I back away shrugging my shoulders. "Just saying! If I were in the games, that's what I would do," I grin, "I guess we're lucky Enobaria and Cashmere aren't so smart huh?" They don't smile.

"I don't have the support yet," He says turning to Chaff and ignoring my comments.

"But people love her," I protest. I've heard them.

"Not enough for two million," He shakes his head and I take my shirt off in response – it's not allowed, to support other tributes, but how will Snow know if I tell the Sponsors to throw their support behind Katniss?

Chaff offers me a sympathetic look, "Finnick, we know how hurt you get when you do that stuff. Maybe, Haymitch can get it himself."

"I don't care. If Haymitch really supports her like this, if he really thinks she's the_ Girl on Fire_, then I won't hesitate to support either," I don't even blink as I stand before them, because this _is_ my resolve.

Haymitch stops Chaff from protesting, "This isn't even about a spark of fire for you... it's just about Annie, and trying to make things up to her?" He laughs to himself, "Odair, the world will owe you one... and I promise you'll get your reward one day."

I nod and head out and it doesn't even hurt tonight. Because Haymitch is right. I am doing it for Annie. In hope that this Girl on Fire _can_ throw the Capitol ablaze, and that Annie and I can one day live happily in peace. Or at least just Annie.

Apparently, I had convinced enough people in between "private meetings" because I watch a little tin land in the girl's lap. She looks gratefully towards the sky for Haymitch and I smile, he's done his part well.

Chaff comes into my room, chewing on something and I notice his young tribute has taken to Katniss. The man sits down next to me as I play with a string of rope with my fingers.

"She's a sweet little girl isn't she?" I let out a smile, "We've all done it before haven't we, harbored a hopeless case?"

"No, that's just you and Haymitch... not me, it makes you out to be a martyr when you don't die the way they want. When you die for a cause."

I watch the little girl, Rue, point out the tracker jacker nest. My stomach churns as I watch the bugs fly around the hive. They're horrible, horrible things. Last years Games saw a cave filled with them and seven tributes died. I'm surprised they've included them in these Games.

"She's a smart girl," Chaff nods.

I watch as Katniss saws down the branch of the tree and tries not to cry out as the bees sting her in various places. Eventually the branch cuts and falls to the ground. Chaff's girl managed to leave an hour ago but Cashmere's girl and mine are in trouble. Cato and Clove get up and run off, they've been trained for this type of attack, and to their credit Peeta and Marvel get up fairly quickly as well. I watch Glimmer, the gorgeous girl who looks just like Cashmere fail to shake them and her image distorts. The bees swell her features and ruin her pristine face. Somerly is caught as well and it's just as gruesome maybe even more so since I actually know her.

Katniss tumbles to the ground and attempts to pry the weapon from Glimmer's bloated arms. The cameras don't know where to look as Cato pins Peeta to a tree and shoves a long sword into Peeta's leg.

The accusations fly, that Peeta is helping Katniss, that he planned this. Clove is badly injured and whines for Cato's attention and in his delirious state he moves to nurse her, giving Peeta the opportunity to break for it. Cato catches on, but is a bit slower with the bites now weighing on his sanity. Peeta yells at Katniss to move and continues to lure Cato away as the two head down to a small river. Out of the shadows Chaff's girl appears and uses some kind of unforeseen strength to pull Katniss to a secluded area of safety while the action around them continues to commence.

For the next few days I quietly watch the Games with Mags, the whole world watches as small, twelve year old Rue nurses Katniss in and out of health. I am silent through most of it, and it gets a bit boring at times, but Cato has been on a killing rage with his temper so the Gamemakers and audience are at least satiated.

I take the free time and continue to walk around the stressed hotel. Everyone is busy, Chaff and Haymitch still have both their tributes, Cashmere is busy with Marvel, her last boy. No one fun is left to talk to and Four is out of the Games. Johanna runs into me as we cross paths in the hall.

"Hey!" She cocks her head to the side with a smile, "I've been looking for someone fun to talk to, everyone else is a sack of boring," I give her a grin and we sit together in a little side room, away from everything to do with the Games.

She orders some drinks and lifts her one leg over the other. We sit there for a moment and then out of nowhere tears begin to fall from her eyes and she finds her way into my arms.

I stroke her hair, "What's wrong?" For someone who seems so strong, she has broken rather easily.

"I said _no_ Finnick," She takes a deep breath and goes into a fit of sobs, even when she tries to calm herself the words come out choppy, "I said no, and Snow... he... my family," I understand immediately what she means and it hits me hard, all of my memories of those I've lost to my selfish ideas... there's nothing I can do but hold her that much closer. There are no words that will justify this, nothing that can be said to make it easier. She pounds her fist into my chest and looks up into my eyes with such intensity that I fear she's mad at _me_, "He burned my backyard."

"I know, I know," I whisper into the back of her hair and feel its chopped ends poking me in the face. I feel so much older now – or at least a lot older then twenty-three. I've played this game... I've played it for almost ten years now. Her face shows itself when she finally picks it up from my chest and it looks exactly like the innocent one she put on for Caesar, before she turned deadly. Behind her facade is her real persona, the real Johanna that is vulnerable.

"You're the only person I have left."

I take a deep breath and take her in closer, "And you're not ever losing me, Jo."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	38. The 74th Hunger Games (part three)

Johanna seems unconvinced but our private moment is now behind us because of a lone figure standing tauntingly in the doorway. Enobaria saunters over to us slowly, flashing both of us a cruel smile.

"This is just adorable," she hisses in her sassy way, "crying... because you lost your tributes?"

The deadly girl from District Seven gets restless and I feel her arms tense up. They've never liked each other. I wrap my arms around her, in a way I do for Annie whenever she tries to move in some rash manner, "Enobaria, this isn't a good time. None of it is about the Games."

She raises her eyebrows, "I mean I figured... everyone out there just thought the two of you came in here to, what is it the two of you do for a living again?"

Johanna pushes me off and stands a mere breath away from Enobaria, "It would be a dream come true if I ever get the opportunity to kill you."

"Hey, let's all relax," I push between the two growling women and their faces only change to target me instead of each other. But it's Johanna to walk away, and probably for the better. Without a response to either of us she exits.

It all seems so weird, how anxious Snow is becoming. When I first said "no" he took his time picking off my loved ones. Now with just one word from Johanna her whole way of life is gone. Maybe she's more of a threat than I am, louder. But I think it might be something different, it might be that he's heard the murmuring in the Districts.

The day passes slower now and I am left to my own devices once more. I hang out with a few people and we pass drinks and gossip around about other victors. As the day wears on, though, my conversation with Johanna looms over my head and I can't help but dial up the phone to talk to Annie, to just for a moment listen to her voice and assure myself she's safe – even if someone is listening intently to every word.

"H-hello?" Her voice is the innocent one I've been looking for.

I wrap the phone cord around my finger, "Hi, darling, it's Finnick."

Her voice picks up, more sure of itself, "Oh Finnick! You sound so strange over the phone, I didn't even know how to answer this thing," she giggles to herself and it's the old Annie, "I hope everything is okay... why did you call?"

"I just really needed to hear your voice," I take a breath, "I want you to know I love you."

I hear her take a step from the phone she only whispers, "I love you too," before we both hang up. It would be odd if we called and talked longer than that. The phones are here to call home to family, like people's children and let them know everything's fine. Her words hang in the air and I can't help but snatch them up and keep them tightly around me.

Feeling better I walk back to the room, where Mags has ripped apart a pillow and is now sewing something new out of the fabric. The huge explosion at the Cornucopia takes us both by surprise. As it's done the Careers return and Katniss narrowly makes it out undetected, but the supplies she wanted to destroy are now gone. Caesar cuts in to flash to another clip where Cashmere's boy has caught Rue in a trap.

This is what they want, for the show to put us on the edge of our seats. We know everything while they know close to nothing. Rue sits there, at spear point, waiting for Katniss to return and fall into the trap. It's hard to watch as she nears and finds the small girl tangled in a net. I need to step back, away from the reality of those nets... the same nets I used to trap little children just like Rue and kill them.

It takes a few blinks to bring me back to the present. As if we all already know what will happen, the District One male pops out from some bushes in time to toss his spear at the Girl on Fire. She must have hunter's ears, or something, because she ducks and immediately responds by shooting the boy in the neck.

As if on cue a chair comes flying out of Cashmere's room and clanging onto the floor. But the damage is done, Rue is caught by the spear Katniss had dodged and no amount of sponsor money would patch up that wound. I tilt my head and watch in awe at the next turn these Games take. Katniss holds the girl and cries, promising to sing songs to her until she's sleeping. Obviously people have been traumatized by losing their allies, but this is something different.

She is making a statement. Rue was not a true ally to her, not like the Careers teaming up. No, Rue was taken under Katniss' wing purely because she was small and defenseless. She was too young for these Games. The footage cuts away and I find even Mags jumping at the cut, I move towards the TV to see if we can change back but that footage is dead. Without the singing in the air everything seems dead.

We instead rewatch Cato snapping the neck of the District Three boy. Caesar casually addresses this and makes comments about the brutality and where the neck was severed at with a diagram to follow. But the footage comes back, it has to, they have to show the dead tributes being lifted away. And there it is, little Rue, the girl too young and defenseless for these Games covered, no decorated in flowers. Like a corpse ready for a funeral.

There is something so odd about it. Yes, tributes die, yes they get taken away... but when they're cold, bloody or hunger-stricken they don't make you think about what will happen, only what has. But now we all have to watch, and they don't leave it on very long. The ebony girl is wearing a crown twisted with roses and holds a batch of white leaves in her hands, like someone might in their casket. Katniss has done something extraordinary. She has reminded people that these are children dying.

I want to talk to someone about what we've all witnessed. It could be the start of something new, something different. The sobs from the sponsor room are loud and unmistakable. Haymitch marches out of his room on a mission and I know I need to push out and ask what everyone wants to know... Katniss has created a martyr, will they let her live her Games?

"Haymitch!" I call out trying to catch up to him.

He waves me off, but I refuse to give in and I follow him where I wait outside the Gamemakers' room. It takes a while, and a bit of shouting as far as I can make out. No one on the screens mention Rue or the flowers, though Katniss does receive bread from a District not of her own, I assume it's Eleven's. The TV cuts to Caesar who eagerly prepares the audience for a special announcement.

And it is special. They announce to the remaining tributes that if they're from the same District at the end of the Games they can both go home. This is because of Peeta's comment about being in love with Katniss. It will give the audience something to root for... and Katniss some much needed hope.

As soon as the information has registered with the remaining tributes, the girl from Twelve finally screams for Peeta, looking giddy enough that she needs to clasp her mouth shut. Once again, the viewers know all, the rule change would be more beneficial for the District Two tributes, since we all know Peeta is wounded down by the lake... even if Katniss could get to him it would be pointless unless she could pull a Johanna Mason and wipe everyone out in seconds.

Haymitch comes out, victorious, and this time I don't let him stop me, "Why are you giving them false hope? They're never going to really allow this."

"I know, hopefully someone else kills him," he smiles, "I don't care what happens at this point, she _can_ win and she will. We need her to fight, she's the one..."

He catches me off guard when he says she's the one. I assume he's alluding to her being the symbol of a change in our way of life, but this whole crazy plan can crumble if he doesn't watch it, "What happens if it _does_ boil down to both of them winning?"

"I promise it won't even get that far, Finnick. Right now I just need to sell the star-crossed lovers and try to..." he looks around before keeping his next words vague, "you know."

"Hope you're right," I shrug my shoulders in response and continue to watch the TV as Caesar interviews the families from the Top Eight. They always do, though they didn't have anyone to really interview for me. They made up friends, from girls who claimed they knew me by the time I started getting popular. Nana Koa said some nice things, but that's all I can remember, I make an effort not to relive those Games.

I order a drink and watch as they introduce Cato's family, three younger brothers and a lonesome looking mother. It's the mother who explains that he insisted on going into the Hunger Games, to win fame and glory for their family – a lot like Somerly's reasoning. Of course, he was also a full-fledged Career, but it gives him a reason at least.

Clove has no such reason, a single child of a father who overlooks everything to do with Peacekeeper installations. Her mother goes on to explain how she has tried to give her daughter everything she could ever need to succeed and they continue to root for her and Cato from the safety of their depressing District.

The drink I've ordered is strong, but not too toxic, it's enough to lull my attention away from the TV until they show Thresh. I'm not sure why these interviews engross me so, it must be because it makes everyone human and adds another layer to their character, something at least. She's an old, dark woman, Thresh's grandmother, and they let her emotion talk as long as she wants though she holds herself together more than his mother does who quickly starts to cry.

Then we end up in District Twelve where they introduce Peeta's brothers and parents. I don't think they're lying but one of the brother's talks about how much Peeta really loves Katniss, it just seems odd though since I've always assumed the "love" wasn't mutual.

After a while they cut over to Katniss' mother, a dazed woman who quietly talks about her daughter and the strength she's inherited from her father. Her sister, little Prim who everyone knows, talks positively about how Katniss will win. At the end of all the interviews they sign off with Gale, Katniss' cousin who reluctantly tells the cameras that she has good odds and everyone is rooting for her.

The interviews are over and they've now switch back to the Games where we find Katniss awkwardly kissing Peeta. They could use a lesson from me on how to fake it.

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><p><strong>Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated!<strong>


	39. The 74th Hunger Games (part four)

**Warning: tense sexual situation.**

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><p>I head back to my rooms just as they announce the Feast: an item they all need. Caesar goes on to give us, the audience, a taste of what is in the bags. Cato and Clove would both be recieving food since they are unable to feed themselves properly after Katniss blew up their supplies. Thresh can get body armor, that would be useful in protecting him from the sword and bow of Cato and Katniss. The girl from Five would receive a special sleeping bag designed to keep her warm in the cold nights. And of course Katniss and Peeta can retrieve the mediciene for Peeta's leg – that's where the real show is.<p>

I decide to talk to Haymitch again.

"If she gets that medicine, Peeta and her can win," I know I should watch myself and not get so caught up in everything but as someone who himself is mentally scared from the Games and the love that is involved with some of its players I don't stop, "You won't have your spark if she goes mad after killing him! It's not fair to play these games with them."

Haymitch turns and looks at me, his eyes very strained and pointed, "Get out, Finnick. I have to think."

He has never brushed me off like that, so blatantly and joyless. I leave his room and watch Haymitch send Katniss sleeping syrup to keep Peeta from stopping her. That man is creating something he won't be able to contain, spark or not.

I hear whines from the Sponsor room as Katniss heads off, leaving a dying but sleeping Peeta behind. I feel so bored. Usually I'd either be home, or partying with Haymitch and Chaff but they're both busy. I suppose I can give into my Capitol side, sit and drink wines with random people and comment on the Games. But I'd rather not. Instead I spot a lone Cashmere moping around and nudge over to her.

"You bored too? I'm waiting for Enobaria to hurry up so we can go get facials, but she still has both of her kids," Cashmere looks me up and licks her lips in response. This interests me. Before I can even formulate a response she gives fluffing out her hair in a seductive manner.

I clench my jaw, "Yea, I'd like to be home with Annie... but I am waiting for Chaff and Haymitch to finish up," Cashmere deliberately pushes her large breasts against her tightly bound shirt and pops open a button, letting her breasts spill out. My breathing gets faster and I can feel a bit of sweat trickle on the back of my neck. You can't say she isn't gorgeous.

She looks up at me with those crystal eyes, "Annie hmm...? I could keep you," she steps in closer and whispers in my ear almost tickling it, "company."

I try to distance myself, "No, I can't Cash..." My tongue starts twisting itself because half my mind continues to lust after the dirty memories and times we've had before – but the other half flashes an image of innocent Annie at home, waiting for me and only me.

"It's not your fault, Finnick," she begins like she's read my mind, "The Capitol has made people like you and me sex addicts," she squeezes my bicep, "They've made us accustomed to always being pleasured," she gives out a slight moan, "and I need to be pleasured."

It's an interesting bathroom that she pulls me into. One that includes showers and toilets, it's the mentor's bathroom – so we don't need to go up all the way to our rooms to clean off. Cashmere throws me into one of the stalls and the door rips open with a bang. I quickly rip off my shirt as she frisks my body, planting small kisses along my golden skin. My hands pull at her hair as things begin pumping faster within my system.

She grabs a potted plant sitting on top of the porcelain bowl and throws it at the ground, shattering bits of glass around our naked bodies. From this she grabs a jagged piece and runs it along her own navel, cutting fresh blood into her pure white skin. Like a temptress she licks the bloody piece of glass and you know full well she was a Career.

I wrap my body around hers as I slam her into the door that continues to groan. She screams out in pain and I continue to thrust her violently like she's an enemy, without remorse for her feelings. Her breathing causes her breasts to heave up and down and she scratches at my back in agony.

Angrily I rip her hair and shove her head down into my crotch as I grab onto the wall in front of me and prepare myself. I feel her warm mouth wrap around my engorged cock, my manhood that's been defiled by the Capitol. It feels so good. She has done this so many times and right now I'm in too much delight to feel bad about it. My eyes roll back as a overpowering sensation trickles through my body. I hear the soft sucking noises being made by her mouth and then she pauses, we both do once we hear a click on the stall door.

Johanna is standing there, eyes stained red. Her cheeks begin to flush as she catches us in the act. Cashmere immediately brushes her off but Johanna continues to stare at me. And I feel dirty. Disgusting even, because this girl knows how much I love Annie. _ And what am I doing_? I open my mouth to explain, to her, to myself but find nothing but her lips on mine.

And none of stop, not one of us corrupt beings has the purity of heart to halt these acts. Someone's tongue wrestles mine in a steamy way and I realize Johanna has removed her top. Cashmere continues moving her hands around each of our bodies and into different crevices as I hold Johanna steadily in order to reach the height of my excitement. I feel everything in my body about to burst just as Cashmere comes back to me, leaning her body against mine. Nothing can stop my frothy white liquid that doses Johanna's clothes on the ground.

All three of us are now emitting passionate noises now. All three sex slaves, enjoying each other's company far too much. I can't even imagine how long we continue. Eventually there's a shot from a cannon and we collectively decide we've suppressed enough urges for now. The girls start to leave, Cashmere offers an undershirt to Johanna since hers is now ruined but Johanna refuses and walks out without a top. I decide to stay after them, staggering our exits.

The showers are now some sort of beacon and I make my way to its nozzle, turning it to the coldest setting it can manage. I let it trickle over my body and freeze me, for a while it feels good but eventually I give in and turn the water to a steamier temperature. I start washing my body clean of everything, my mouth to get rid of the lips from other girls that aren't Annie, hand prints of those that aren't Annie. But I can't even begin to wash over my lower body, because there is no trace of Annie there to leave behind.

I slide my back down on the tiles, watching the water drown into the drain. Looking for comfort I pull my knees towards my chest and push my head in between them. I take a few slow but heavy breaths and I can't tell if it's the water or if I am actually crying but I feel so detestable and worthless. _ I am not the victim this time_. I am the person who caused this. My head shifts a little and I mistakenly open my mind to questioning as I watch the steam fill the proximity of the room.

Cashmere was right – I am an addict. I am. And Snow turned me into this, he wanted this, for sex to become second nature in order to always fulfill my duties. But it's _not_ just him, I played my part too... and it felt so good when it all started. But the moment it started to hurt Annie, even if she had no clear idea, everything turned to blow up in my face and now none of it is enjoyable. My body aches and my penis is swollen once more pleading with me for air. I've been taking notice of the little red dots that have sprung around it, I must have picked something up. I'm surprised Cashmere even put her mouth on it, though, I guess it's still a big deal to say you sucked Finnick regardless of what it actually looked or felt like.

I even kissed my best friend as I come to that point I manage to slam my head into the back of the wall. We will never overcome that. Sex has never done anything good for me and I don't like it, I hate it. I swear through the steamy air I can picture Annie walking towards me, but it's no one, instead I get the feeling I got _that_ night, when it didn't even feel like sex with her and I. Just love.

By now it's been long enough for my appearance to needed so I begin to redress. I notice my shirt also has semen plastered to it so I let it sit there and head out. The cool air from outside the warm showers sweeps over my bare chest, and it's cold... though this time there's a hint of loneliness in there as well.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading!<strong>


	40. The 74th Hunger Games (part five)

Mags pulls me over to the TV, sitting me down on the couch with her. Maybe she can sense something's off with me, or maybe she's just lonely – anyways, I don't protest. We watch the Games being broadcast at the moment, where Cato and Thresh duel it out in the tall grassy field. The commercials switch over and several adds with "victor" endorsements play, a new one with Cashmere makes me laugh. Mags fills me in on what I missed, the girl from Five is dead and so is the girl from Two. Now it's down to both tributes from Twelve, a victory in its own right, and either Cato or Thresh is making it out alive.

Something odd happens, a cannon blares but neither of us can tell where the wound was or who is the dead one. But then it happens, there's a ten second delay from Thresh in which the wound in his throat fails to fully open and spurt up the blood. Then there were three. Just as Cato starts to suit up in Thresh's armor and take a bite of his food stock the Gamemakers initiate the finale. Mags jumps and my eyes flare up as well as a mutant dog comes from the grains and pounces on Cato, it's large, pointed with teeth and intense with its eyes.

This is it.

Mags and I are on the edge of our seat, much like everyone watching. Even Caesar is practically peeing his pants out of giddy excitement, he loudly narrates the finale. Dogs now appear and chase after the "lovers" essentially bringing them closer to the Cornucopia and, in result, closer to Cato. It's a struggle but Katniss does get Peeta to climb on top of the slippery landmark. The three punch, claw, and kick at each other as the dogs create a harmony of thirsty breathing.

But there is one moment, one moment that everyone in Panem will remember. The moment Cato grabs Peeta in a headlock, threatening to take both of them down to the dogs. Dilemma reads on Katniss' face: kill her "lover" and win the Games or hold herself to a higher standard. Luckily for her, Peeta makes the decision for her when he points to Cato's hands, to which she responds with a ready arrow. The District Two tribute falls into the teeth of the creatures and both tributes from Twelve have essentially one.

I turn away with Mags as the screams and cries of the boy bring us both back to dark places. Our door is open and I catch Enobaria running past the rooms, most likely into the Sponsor room where she'll receive little help. Johanna stops by as well, joining Mags and I on the huddled sofa, trying to block out Cato's screams. None of us will admit to the others that it bothers us but the looks on our faces, the churning in our stomachs, do all the talking for us.

Two more people join, Haymitch and Chaff and all us just watch, no words are needed. The boy is nothing more than a slab of meat now, barely even human. It's the type of mutilation that makes Chaff sensitive and me lose my meals. At this point I don't know what we wait for, for the victor to be crowned, for Cato to put out of his misery, we just wait. Katniss finally answers for everyone when she leans down over the Cornucopia and ends his life for him.

The Games' sky changes to a lighter shade and nothing is as frightening as it once was, all of us are put at ease again. Now it is time to – and the voice sounds out before I even think it, "There we be a revoking of the previous rule change that stated there could be two winners if they are from the same District. There can be only one winner," right on cue, "May the odds be ever in your favor."

Peeta is first, offering to be shot so Katniss can return to her family. But the Girl on Fire won't hear it, she won't be played so easily. She does what Johanna, Cashmere, and I don't have the guts to do anymore – she refuses. Katniss throws down her bow, holding her hands out with berries. I look in confusion towards Chaff who has been watching the whole time.

"Those are the berries that the tribute from District Five ate by accident. They said they were saving them for Cato since they're pretty lethal."

Haymitch walks away, instead of having two victors possibly win he will soon have none. Our whole room is silent, everywhere and everyone are silent. It's gotten so quiet I wonder if I can hear the waves from District Four all the way from here.

Their hands cup together and share the berries, there's a different look in each of their eyes. To the average viewer the difference is minimal, but no, Peeta's eyes are so pained and ready to do anything out of love for this girl. It's Katniss' eyes that show something totally strange: defiance. This is why Haymitch is so ready to support her because she doesn't need directions or knowledge in order to assault the Capitol, everything she does is already laden in revolt, even if she doesn't know it.

Everyone hangs on bated breath as those berries touch their lips. _They're going to do it_. It's something I would do for Annie and I, if I weren't so selfish or cowardly. Cries and angry fits are heard from the hall and it is apparent the sponsors are upset, no, devastated at this turn of events.

But it's the Capitol who gives in, right before the berries hit their tongue, "Ladies and gentlemen, the victors of the 74th annual Hunger Games, Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen from District Twelve!"

"Wow," I can only let out this one word and even it is an understatement. Nothing can be said for that act of graciousness, nothing can be said for the consequences that must surely follow it either.

Johanna and I exchange looks before she stands, "It will be an interesting year."

I know what she means. Now the Capitol will be giving us extra shifts, more commercials – anything they can to prevent people from feeling empowered by that show of defiance. But I don't care, I can't stop smiling. Smiling because I might finally get that happiness I've been promised. Because maybe things will change. Sure they might be extra bad for a while, but if Haymitch is sold than so am I. The murmur in Four is reassuring, people ask questions but I respond with vague answers because the cameras are everywhere.

Annie's face is quizzical when I finally run up and spin her around in my arms.

"We have a _spark_," I whisper happily in her ears, she has no idea what I mean but she smiles happily for me anyways. We fall to the ground, on the grassy garden in front of Mags' house, and I shower her in kisses. I stroke her matted hair and hold her tight, never wanting to let her go, never wanting to live my life without her. Then my eyes light up.

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><p><strong>Feedback encouraged!<strong>


	41. Eternal Punishment - XLI

"Finnick, I am so sorry. I told myself I would never take it off," Her crying starts to become hysterical as I take her in my arms like a small child, her words come out broken, "I lost the ring."

"It's alright Annie. When I can, I will get a new one..." I feel my eyes getting wet, "Until then, let's just let it go for a while okay? I have a lot of things to do and not so much time, but I promise I will tell you when the time is right."

"Put the wedding off?" Her eyes grow wild with pain and everything starts rushing through her thoughts, this happens when she visits the extremes of any emotion nowadays, "Is it because everyone thinks I am crazy?"

Before she can protest I pull her in closer, "No, Annie, none of this was ever your fault. You are perfect as you are."

"When we will be happy Finn?" The tears stream down her face, "When we will have our family? When will I have you all to myself?"

I let her spill the words onto me, only trying to quiet her for a moment where I attempt to console her, "We are happy aren't we?" But she's already relapsed, she's already reentering that scary place up in her head. The pupils of her eyes have gone small, her hands shaky. Annie is entering a new land no one can follow her to.

"Ken," she looks to the corner of the room, her voice wavering, "he's come home..."

"Not real, Annie, he's not there," Her face breaks into immediate depression and she tries to heal it by burying it in my chest. I collapse into her as well, keeping her steady, trying to keep my own desires and needs from waning. There's not enough time or room for two crazed victors.

Haymitch's words echo in my head, that one day we will be happy. But not yet.

A few weeks pass and it's time for the Quater Quell announcements to go live later tonight. I was born about a year after the 50th and now it's my turn to mentor for the 75th. Every twenty-five years they celebrate this... I just hope by the time the 100th is coming out I'm old enough to have some new young victor replace me. Annie has begged me to weave her a new skirt, so I play with the fabrics while she hums and paints her fingernails with a chemical from the Capitol.

It's a rather peaceful evening until Annie's music gets drowned out by the anthem as President Snow appears with Caesar, the two exchange banter about previous Games and after a while Snow gets up to read from a black box holding many cards. He clears his throat to read the words, to tell us what will be special about this year, "And on the 75th Quarter Quell, it shall be decreed that this year's female and male tributes will be reaped from the current pool of victors in each District. To show that even the strongest among them can still fall."

I have to let the words repeat in my head before I really comprehend them. Something about victors. Something about current pool. Strength. Fall. My heart sinks and it's as if Annie has just now come to the realization as well. Everyone living next to us has the possibility of being reaped. We all have the possibility of going back into the Games.

My throat clenches as I picture the mayhem now. Friends, fellow mentors, needing to fight each other, kill each other. Annie's hands start shaking and I know she fully understands what the words mean. I should hold her, console her... but I can't because right now I need someone doing just that for me.

To go back into an arena, to face that torture once more. The odds are not in our favor, or any of the victor's favor this time. We are too relaxed, too pampered. We have been promised a life of little worry but even that has been stripped from us. I close my eyes and lean back on the couch, all I want to do is shut the world out – pretend all of this is a coincidence. A lie.

I feel something curl up into me and I know it's Annie, but I can't focus on her like I should. No, I'm too busy soothing my own unstable state. The other male victors are all drunks, unable to fight, some unable to speak – none of them go to the Capitol with us to mentor. I am one of the only recognizable victors from Four.

All that's left to do is hope, hope that my name isn't called, that the whole thing isn't rigged in someway. Hope I don't have to watch too many of my friends die. My mind jumps to Johanna, the only female victor from Seven... then to Katniss, surely figuring out she's heading back in as well after only six months of immunity. The whole thing is so deplorable and insulting. How much have we all given to the Capitol to only now have them denounce all of it?

The Reaping is depressing, the only joy comes from watching the younger children sigh in the relief of not having to deal with another stressful Hunger Games. Several of the old men stand behind me, a few try to shield their eyes from the sunlight, others have answered the call and come more dressed up like they had during their Games – most of those types are our old Careers. Mags stands near Annie and three other girls who I haven't seen much of since my one introduction of the Victor's Village inhabitants.

Annie is barely holding herself together and I find myself struggling to play my camera face as well. Thomps is unprepared, visibly upset as he heads for the girl's jar. No one speaks and he doesn't try to play up what these Games are, he merely goes about his job.

"The female tribute will be," he takes one look at the name and the small blinks of tears he makes in response automatically tells me who it is, "Annie Cresta."

She collapses into tears, tearing at her hair and shaking her head. I'm sure they've cut to a commercial in the Capitol. Thomps stares up to the cloudy sky as if trying to ignore the horribleness of what is currently happening before him. To send a woman so damaged like that back to the place that originally injured her – there's no entertainment in that.

Mags takes up her hand, she yells loudly and points to herself. She volunteers. All I can do is bite my lip so the tears don't fall in front of the audience. She volunteered for Annie. She volunteered for me. Regardless, now we know what will happen next, and it's no shock anymore. The fact Annie was even picked lets everyone know this isn't random... this is an attack. District Four has two happy victors, and now they will have none.

I wait on that stage. Wait for my name to be uttered. Snow wanted a Game with Annie and me in it. He wanted us both to suffer... but I get the feeling this might backfire on him more than Annie and I. The District is restless, they are offended that their victors are being challenged. I stand before them and for once in my life I feel these people and I have a connection – everyone in the sea-side paradise knows whose name is about to be called next and what utter corruption it is. We already know which famous victor will have to go back in with his beloved mentor.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	42. The Plan - XLII

Thomps holds the paper, his voice very somber and unfamiliar to him, "The male tribute shall be, Finnick Odair."

Annie cries out again as if her world has now turned black, but several of the old victors have taken her into their arms, quickly muffling her words. I've talked so little with them but this is something the entire District knows, that I make no attempt to hide. This is just another thing to add to the list of grievances committed by the Capitol. Mags stands beside me, taking me in for a final hug in front of the cameras.

I make no small show of thanking her, because now I can finally let my emotions realize. The cameras will assume it is because Mags is my mentor, but everyone else will know it's because of what she did for Annie. Her hair is so soft as I run through it, "Thank you, Mags, thank you so much."

There is nothing but silence until Thomps prompts the people of District Four to cheer and support us, and even then it is tentative applause. Mags and I are shuffled into the "goodbye" rooms, someone has led Annie to mine and I don't even know what to say. Where to begin. Her words have been stripped from her as well and she can only wipe away the tears as we stare at one another.

She is so small, so innocent, so young. I hold my arms out to her and she runs into them without a second thought. We collapse into each other and I try to gather every memory I can muster, I try to make everything count. My hands feel hers for one last time and I caress her soft cheeks, twirl her tangled locks, press my lips against hers, rub her sunken shoulders. It's all I can do, to have her permanently installed in my mind until I go back into that hell.

"Finnick," I'm surprised she can speak, my voice is nothing more than a hollow rasp at this point, "I want you to come home..."

I force myself to speak but my splintered voice is all that manifests, "I do too," the rush of adrenaline comes to me as I fear footsteps near, sounds that threaten to end my last moments with Annie. She is propped up by my arms as I lean into her, looking straight into those sea green eyes, "Annie, I want you to know I have always and will always love you. Please," my nose stings as the tears start to hurt, "Please stay safe."

Our lips touch for the last time in our lives, pressing into one another like it might change our realities and make everything okay. But nothing will ever be okay again, Annie is escorted out and I am escorted onto my train. My way of life is gone, hers never to be repaired. The realization isn't something I want to think of right now but the reality of it weighs on me heavily, _I am going to die in this arena_... but then something else strikes a chord within me right as I am sat down to watch a recap of the Reapings. I _am_ going to die in this arena, so _I want it to count_.

Cashmere's heart breaks on live television as her name is called, color drains from her usually perky skin and I can tell she's in shock. A Capitol favorite, someone adored by Snow and his men... now betrayed and sentenced to die. Like me she did what she was told, but they want their show. Everyone, every single victor thought they were immune – we were promised our immunity and now we have nothing to show for that broken promise except our imminent death.

A cry comes out of Thomps' mouth as Gloss volunteers as the male tribute. The brother and sister duo are now going into the Games together, it is noble and at the same time so wrong. Enobaria is announced for District Two and we have the consecutive winners all together now. Enobaria for the 62nd, Gloss for the 63rd, Cashmere for the 64th and me for the 65th... now that I think about it, it was a good string of years. Strong, handsome, beautiful, entertaining victors. It's no mystery as to why we're called.

Enobaria flashes her teeth with no variant of emotion and her Districtmate Brutus smiles wickedly as well. Out of everyone so far, they're by far the most normal... or in this case most typical to the Games. Beetee and Wiress are called from District Three. Beetee is fairly intimidating in his own right, not physically strong but very intelligent. I've never seen much of Wiress though, I don't think she mentors.

Face after face gets called and my pain rekindles. I can't kill these people, these friends that I've drunk with, laughed with, shared feelings with – these rare people that understand my pain, understand how difficult and hard the Games are to overcome. Johanna's Reaping is short, since they cut so much of it out, in the treeline of District Seven she flicks up her fingers and swears profanities. They need to show some of it because she is continuing as they announce Blight.

I don't get as upset again until they call up Chaff for District 11. At this point it's too much and a migraine drills into my head. But I can't stop watching this storm that is waiting for me, so I lean my head on Mags's shoulder, hoping she'll rub it for me. Why did it have to be Chaff? Why one of the funniest, most down to earth men?

It doesn't help that District Twelve is next. At this point, after one look of Katniss standing all by herself, Thomps excuses himself from the room. I can't turn away though as Effie fishes around the empty bowl for the single slip of paper. She continues her formalities announcing Katniss' name, sending the flame into battle. Haymitch is then announced and I notice Mags has closed her eyes and is leaning into me, now unable to watch as well, all her friends sentenced to death.

Then Peeta volunteers, probably just like _they_, the Capitol, had planned. Staffers on the train cry as they watch the boy and the girl so in love get packaged to die. Her District responds with an odd little salute of sorts, they don't cheer or smile. All it is, is that finger signal and nothing more. She responds so eloquently, with power and defiance in her air. Her own three fingers raise and I see something I've never seen in a person before. Absolute resolve. Something in her head so determined that she is willing to risk anything to obtain it. The broadcast has cut out and now is just Caesar going on about betting, but something has resonated with me. _That_ girl. _That_ District.

Whatever happens, I want to be a part of it. District Four spread her name like it was a rum shipment – she inspired people of my own District by her acts of defiance and such little fear for the consequences. She is the revolution, and this is why Haymitch likes her so much.

We are roused off the train and into the sympathetic arms of the Capitol. The people are devestated as I walk out with Mags' arm around my shoulder. How often had they seen us together, escorting tributes, giving interviews. Now all of that will cease. Just like my world is over, so is theirs. Now they must get used to a world without Finnick Odair, and I don't think they're ready.

They are so genuine about being sad for us that I almost feel bad for them, but I come to my senses and deplore them for putting up with these events for so long in the first place. When we enter the Training Center I almost head to the bar on instinct, but we are escorted to our quarters for a brief moment before taking ourselves down to the welcome dinner with all our friends – with all our competitors.

If it was bad at the train station it's horrible in here, people give hugs, recount old memories. I instantly receive a long hug from Chaff who brings me over to Haymitch, sitting by himself, something distant in his eyes.

He looks up at us a moment and realizes two people linger before him, "Parade today, huh?"

I nod and for some reason feel like joking about it all, as if comedy is my escape, "Oh yes, and this will be the best year ever... since, you know, we all look so wonderful."

Chaff lets out a snort and we each take turns observing people in the room, and it's interesting to see just how downhill people have gone. Once strong teenagers are now sagging, old grandparents. Ones who were once gorgeous killers are now fat, limping people. We are no longer invincible as we felt in our Games, we are old, crippled and destroyed.

Haymitch drags both of us into a tiny room, and even then his voice is extremely quiet and everything about him paranoid, "You will fly in the arena with the Mockingjay won't you?"

It's code, code for something. Flying. Flight. Birds. What could he mean? Is it similar to what Annie and I see swimming as? Escape? I know I've heard the term Mockingjay before as well, but what is it coining? Caesar used it I think, to refer to Katniss. I process these words before figuring out the approach I should take in my own chosen words.

"I would love to be in an alliance with Katniss," our eyes stare into each other and I've never noticed how gray Haymitch's are.

"Half of the tributes here want an alliance with Katniss," his words are careful again, "Three, Six, Seven, Eight, Eleven... Is Four on for a possible connection?"

"Of course, Haymitch," those numbers, those Districts... they must be allies as well, "Will you let Katniss know I'm interested?"

"She won't be easy to convince," he scratches his chin, "Why don't you talk to her? You'll need to protect the boy as well... they're a team."

This time I am freer with my words as I mock him, "They're_ in love_..."

He punches me lightly and our time is over. Later tonight I'll relay the words to Mags, but if it's taken me only ten years to tire of this process I know she's more than beyond it. Haymitch mentioned Seven, which means Johanna already knows. Even Beetee flashes me a slight smile I've never gotten from him before as we eat our desserts. We all leave for the Remake Center, and I notice we're leaving a lot earlier than regular tributes do... probably because they have so much damage control to do on all of us now.

When I enter the familiar halls I am greeted by a saddened Noqall, "I never thought we'd be down here again..." She strokes my cheek and brushes brown powder along my cheekbones, "I mean really this is too hard. You're _all_ our favorites! But how can we have you all win?" She starts getting angrier and angrier as she styles my hair. "It's just so horrible and sad."

This ground beneath me is solid concrete but even _it_ feels ready to break as Noqall pulls out an all too familiar box. She's not one to repeat her looks, but since this is basically a throw-back Hunger Games I don't think twice. In her hands lays the big reveal, a single golden net. She grins mischievously and I raise my brows in anticipation.

"You're still _my_ favorite, though. You better win, Odair," we both grin at each other as I hold my shoulders so she can drape the net over me. But she doesn't. Instead I am stood up and met with an evil grin and clammy pair of hands that begin to wrap the netting around one particular spot on my body. My crotch. Over and under, knotted until she thinks it's tight enough.

"And if it comes undone, _well_, we'll still have a show," she winks as steps me into the mirror.

My golden body matches the golden net, just like it did with those scales ten years ago. I try to spot differences from then and now, but can't really match anything specific. I still essentially look the same, maybe a little taller, buffer, and sharper, but virtually the same. Though there's something my eyes now, something that fades what used to be striking green. But I don't have time to stop and reminisce. I need to work.

I walk outside and spot my prey. A lone Katniss Everdeen, in some intimidating getup. Like always, set out are small cubes of sugar for the horses, I grab some of these treats and eagerly go up to talk to her, making sure to lean my back on the carriage in a cool fashion. Casually, I cock my head to the side to get a good view of the young girl. When she has finally accepted my presence I offer out my hand.

"Want a sugar cube?" She steps back from me, shooting a look of disgust. I try again, "They're for the horses, but they have their whole lives to eat sugar..." I smirk on the last word, "but you and I, when we see something sweet, we know to take it." Her eyebrows peak in a threatening manner, that derails my original plan of attack, so I try to change before it's too late, "I know lots of dark secrets about people here. Do you have any worth my time?"

"Don't you have a Capitol girl you should be pestering for money?" It's the first time we've ever spoken but her voice is crisp and clear.

"Money? Hah, I haven't dealt with that in years... like I said, I'm only in it for the secrets."

"Well, I have no secrets. Actually, most people tend to know mine before I do."

I try to keep it going pointing to her costume, "What happened to all the little girl dresses?"

Her face hardens a moment, but it's still beautiful and clear, "I outgrew them," she laughs to herself and nods to my costume, "Remind me that I need to borrow yours some time."

Peeta breaks up our conversation, if you could call it that, and I take my leave. That didn't go well at all and I'm pretty sure she either has some vendetta against me or just doesn't trust anyone (which, with this group of people I don't blame her). Sadly, the motion that she might have had some crush on me is vanquished from here on out – this alliance will be hard to secure.

I help Mags into the cart and soon after we're settled they start going off. Gloss and Cashmere head out first and she does her best to stand strong. Their outfits sparkle in countless jewels and I notice that the bust on Cashmere's barely covers her breasts. Brutus and Ebonaria follow out quickly after.

Something starts swirling in my stomach even though I've done this all before. Beete and Wiress head out and then screams erupt when I appear behind them. Mags smiles and looks even prettier than usual, her prep team did a wonderful job, knotting her hair in our typical fish braid and pairing it with a stunning blue wave dress that crashes down to the ground. It's classy, covering up what time has forgotten on her since everyone knows she's the oldest one here. No teeth, gray hair, and she's half my remaining family. I hold her close as we both smile for the crowds. My show instincts do not falter as I continually let the net slip a bit in the back, and wave for the crowds.

It's hard to catch the outfits behind us, but I try to make out the pitiful display. River and Tumble slump into their chariot, too drugged up on morphling beforehand even function properly. Johanna catches my gaze a moment and I give her a mean wink in reference to the dress she's wearing – the ones she hates. District Seven does the same dress every year, tree ensembles. She flicks up her finger towards me in response, causing the audience to faint.

We all turn, though, as a roar of cheers erupts through the crowd. I look down, assuming my "knot" has come undone, but instead catch a glimpse of Katniss and Peeta on the screens above. Young, strong, what tributes should look like. The image of something burning, on fire. At this point, every tribute in the history of the Games is jealous of their stylist.

Snow steps up to talk about the Games and whatnot, so throughout the whole thing I do the only logical thing and try to make Mags laugh – I offer rude comments about some of the people standing behind him, spread the gossip of several of the Gamemakers and jokingly tear apart some of their outfits. When he finally finishes we're introduced to the new Gamemaker – which secures the rumors, that Seneca's blunder (with the berries) was his last, several of my clients brought it up.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading! We're almost in sync with the books now, aren't we? :)<strong>


	43. Training Till Death - XLIII

We head back and everyone decides to have dinner together again, I say hello to people and make introductions to some I'm not totally familiar with. I've never actually met River and Tumble before, and we talk briefly since they're not much for words. I want to talk to Katniss again, but only find Peeta chatting with Johanna. Both are laughing, which is fairly curious.

Johanna pulls me in and throws out my hand, "This, is Finnick Odair. Great guy."

Peeta shakes it grinning, "Thanks," he pauses, making sure he knows the "thanks" is more for the lesson that turned out so beautifully for him when we really first met, "the pleasure is all mine."

"I gotta go get a drink to kill my braincells, be right back." She heads off and leaves me with the blond.

"Sorry about what happened in Four, my tricks always work for me!" I laugh.

He shakes it off, "It's no problem. You know, maybe you can make it up to me since I don't know anyone here... well besides from the TV, but, what are _you_ maybe thinking, strategy wise for the games?" He throws it out blankly, under normal circumstances I would never tell him, but I can work this angle.

"I dunno, what do you feel? I know these people, who to trust who not to... why not... team up?" I give him a big smile.

"I'd have to talk to Katniss. But I don't understand why you'd want me?"

"For Katniss. You know what a good shot she is," I answer him blatantly. He nods and my reasoning apparently suffices. Chaff comes up and throws his hand out for Peeta, with Haymitch joining the crew as well.

"And how goes it, Twelve?"

"Oh you're Chaff!" Peeta says putting together the missing arm and dark skin, "Nice to meet you!"

"Man, your stylists... it's unfair. I mean did you SEE what I had to wear? _Unfair_ I tell you, and how long have I been here?"

Peeta jokes with everyone and seems to fit in just fine. Seeder comes up to join us as well, thrusting something into Peeta's hands, "They're cookies. I know you're a baker yourself, and I don't pretend to be, but those are a special recipe from District Eleven. Let me know what you think, maybe we can swap recipes!"

They both eagerly talk about baking as Katniss comes back, eying us all suspiciously.

We go through the introductions again. When we get to Chaff he pulls Katniss in for a long kiss on the lips. She steps back with such an amazed look. All of us can't help but grin at her innocence.

"Let's head back up Peeta, they're trying to shuffle us all to our rooms," she says rather quickly.

We do disperse, and at least now I know I have Peeta on my side. But what will it take to get Katniss to follow along? I get in my own elevator just in time to catch Johanna stripping off her clothes in District Twelve's pod.

That night, I sleep restlessly, dreading going back into the arena. My odds aren't something to worry about but this time there's so much at stake, and besides, it will be hard to keep Katniss alive. That girl will never trust me... and Peeta is not a fighter, he'd rather negotiate first than kill. So what would keep her from shooting an arrow in my skull?

* * *

><p>I sleepily roll out of bed and drag myself to the training center beneath us. The sun is well overhead by the time I make it down. The weapons glimmer around us and yawn as I'm still overcoming the effects of oversleeping. Everyone's there except for Chaff, probably sleeping off a hangover. I am still attempting to keep my eyes open as they break us loose.<p>

Everyone takes their time, getting back into habit with whatever they were originally good at.

I wander over to the axes and see Johanna very willingly throw them at the targets' heads, "Wanna teach me?" I ask, yawning yet again.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," she hops off of the platform and gives my face a slap, "time to wake up and smell the death!" A target suddenly pops up and she hits it with excellent accuracy on the forehead.

She offers me an ax, and we fight for a few hours, destroying torsos, arms and heads. We break up to get water and work on alliances. I catch up with Brutus for a little bit and we talk over swords and spears. The conversation takes a turn though, especially when we start talking about our families back home. He claims volunteering for the Games was the best thing for District Two, but he has something deep down regretting it since he had to depart with his daughter. I mention Annie and by that point we're both too upset to talk further, so we leave to go hit stuff instead.

After a two hours of dominating with my trident I head over to Peeta who's with River and Tumble. All of them are painting things and it makes me laugh, since they're not even pretending to camouflage which is what the station is for – they're all just painting pictures.

He hands me a fine pointed brush when I greet them, "You draw something."

I take the brush, and shake my head, "I'm no artist."

But he insists so I start to smooth a light brownish color into a circle and carefully spring curly dark lines from the top. After a while I start getting into it and I mix a magenta color, trying to form a woman's body, starting with two large circles and cutting a line sprouting from under them. I go back to the light brown and add the rest, arms and legs. Finally, I take the green Peeta has already mixed for something and mark two dots for the eyes, ending with a ruby red and curve above the chin of the woman.

It takes thirty minutes and I sit back with an accomplished smile, "Finished."

Peeta smiles, but then follows with a puzzled look on his face, "Oh," he laughs awkwardly still trying to be polite, "A, um, lion... nice!"

Did he just insult me? "That's not a lion, it's a woman!"

"Then why does she have hair coming out of her chin?"

"Because it's curly, and that's what the sea water does to your hair, Peeta, it makes it curly!" I say this as I pull on my own hair. He shakes his head and starts to laugh, I sit down and pout, it's fun playing around with him. But I really do think it looks just like Annie.

He picks up a brush and places it on my picture, "Hey? What are you doing?"

"I'm fixing it. Maybe you should stick to your tridents."

I stifle my laugh, because this kid is funny, but I keep my demeanor, "No! It looks good..." and then I actually look at it for a minute, really it just looks like a blob of colors, with lines of brown jutting out from it – like some of the fan mail I get from the children of Panem.

So I let him paint over it. He shapes out the face to look like an acorn and even mixes a few darker shades in the cheeks and above the eyes. I lean in to get a better view as he straightens the hair with colors to make it seem crisper. His hand dips so easily like he's dotting cherries on the top of a cake and then he smooths them out mixing them with more colors.

It takes him only five minutes, and my eyes grow wide with his amazing talent. He doesn't know Annie, it's not even possible. But this picture is perfect of her.

"It's gorgeous," I smile.

"Thanks."

He offers me the picture to keep and I do, I place in in my pocket but by this point I decide my art ego has been offended enough today and luckily I spy a little Katniss struggling with a knot in a corner that can distract me. Perfect. I rush in and wrap my arms around her, using my quick fingers to finish the knot she was attempting.

Her face turns to look at me and that same eye of distrust is there. I try to smile as I take another length of rope, "Here, I'll teach you the best knot to know in the arena."

She stands back and folds her arms with a sigh as I loop the bristles around one another. I place it on my neck and tighten it, holding it up to the ceiling and sticking my tongue out to the side like I'm comically dead. It's a noose.

Katniss turns away and starts to walk from me as I hold the length of rope out to her, "Wait, do you want to give me a walk?"

Yet again she's unamused, even though I find it fairly humorous. I know I have to help save this girl but it's something so frustrating when she's not the nicest person, to some degree I'd rather help Peeta than her. She's a liar for not even loving the boy, a nightmare to laugh with, and a distrusting person who always has her own private agenda. But I guess she's also more than that and I need to give her credit for it, she's strong and deadly, symbolic and inspiring – and that's why Haymitch needs her.

The room goes silent and all you can make out are loud noises, *BANG* *BANG* *CRASH* Everyone moves to the shooting range where we take turns watching Katniss with her bow and arrow. She shoots the arrows without even thinking, sending the glass plates flying. It's talent, second nature to her. I head back over to her when she's done – with a new strategy in mind.

"Hey, I know we didn't have the best introductions," I begin, "but let's start again. I am Finnick Odair," I offer out my hand, but she tries to push around me. So I quickly add, "I'll give you some trident lessons if you can help me learn that bow and arrow?" Her eyes look me over for a minute, judging me and I try my best to smile politely.

For some reason she agrees.

"First thing, is to hold your bow like so," I've really never held one of these before so my grip is awkward, I hold it like I will throw the bow, in a stiff manner as if it were a trident. Katniss cruelly smirks and then composes herself. She takes my hand and adjusts it so my right hand is lightly holding it and my left hand is on the string part.

"Good, now practice letting go of the bow string to get warmed up."

"As you say, Ms. Everdeen," I want to say Mellark, but since she's actually talking to me I don't want to risk it – besides it's obvious we have different senses of humor. I do as she says and warm up my hand, it becomes monotonous and tiring, "How did you learn to do this? I didn't think they had careers in Twelve?"

She shakes her head, "No, my dad taught me. Good, now take an arrow."

I hold the arrow in my hand and feel as if my grip could break it, but as I glide my finger along the sharp tip I understand why you wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of this. Katniss adjusts where I am holding it and tells me to pull it back. I get ready to aim, but it falls off my left hand and I have to readjust. _No problem_. I get ready to aim, and it falls again. Katniss aims and shoots in less than thirty seconds. I try again, aim, and it falls.

"Why won't this thing just stay?" I yell at the bow, and she adjusts my hands.

"Just concentrate. Ignore the rest of the room. That target is an enemy and you have to kill it."

I try again, taking deep breath, holding it, and following Katniss' advice. I pull back my right hand as far as I can, breathe in, let go. It flies quickly past the target but sticks into the wall... I completely missed but at least it didn't fall again.

She gives me an approving nod, "Now you just have to practice your aim. Arrows are small, there's not as much wavering room like there is with tridents. Keep practicing."

Just as I start to get the hang of it, Katniss says she wants to learn about tridents. I take one last arrow and hit the target in the arm. We don't talk about alliances like I want to, but at lease we're talking. I walk her over and size her up for the correct trident. I take her arms and carefully assess the mass in them, handing her one that is best for shorter people with less muscle.

"Perfect," I say, measuring her up once more. I lead her over to the trident dummies and explain the lore behind the trident weapon.

"Can we get on with it," I stop talking about the ancient heroes who wielded the weapon and instead do as she asks. We start with how grip the trident and I explain it as gripping onto someone for your life – it needs to be strong. Then I take my stance, instructing her feet where to go and to keep her trident raised above the head in a diagonal angle. I finally demonstrate on a dummy, decapitating it.

She attempts to raise the weapon but finds it a little to heavy. There are no lighter ones so I show her the crouched position which makes it easier on your arms. She throws again and it makes it about five meters.

"Now, typically, you should have a net in hand. You tangle the opponent and then throw for the kill," I lean in, "for example, you tangle Enobaria and throw from afar so she can't bite you."

She nods with a little more of a smile than any of my other jokes, "Okay, how do I remove it?"

"Same way you do an arrow. Now, for fishing we try to remove it cleanly, so all the meat is still inside. But for killing, you want to twist it almost to do vital damage to the human and their organs."

"Interesting."

I continue to help her with form and show her what to do in close combat – how to deflect another weapon or knock out someone's legs.

"Thanks, Odair," she says as we take notice of the clock. They start herding us out for training scores and we depart.

Mags and I sit next to each other and joke about what we're going to do for them. She wants to take a nap and I applaud it. The Gamemakers already know what we can do and what our secrets are. Cashmere will toss her spear. Katniss will shoot. Johanna will chop something up. And I will throw.

I get called up and give the rest of the group a wave of goodbye. Peeta told me a day ago that it was amazing how friendlier to each other we are than regular tributes. I enter the room and catch Plutarch staring at me. With my classic smile I give them my name.

For no reason in particular I take off the restricting shirt and grab a trident. By now I'm just going with the flow, totally winging everything. I set the dummies on the fastest setting and begin slashing left and right. In the middle of whatever it is I'm doing (destroying property?) I try to show off my range and my targeting abilities. You don't forget how to kill.

It's so lackluster... and boring. Maybe it'd be exciting if I was a new tribute, an unknown boy, but they all know I can kill with a trident. They all know I was born in District Four where these weapons dangle at us from our cribs. Nothing I do, nor any of the tributes, will be special or entertaining... except maybe if Mags' does decide to nap. I'd pay money to see that one.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading. This chapter is a little broken up, but I hope you still like it!<strong>


	44. Final Goodbye - XLIV

I head upstairs and lie on my bed until Mags pushes for me to get up for the reviews. My head leans on her shoulder, and I suddenly remember this exact moment ten years ago. I take a deep breath as the faces scroll by. Gloss and Cashmere, both nines. Brutus, an eight. Enobaria, a ten. Beetee, a seven. Wiress, a six. Mags, a five. Caesar announces my name.

"Finnick Odair, a ten," Well, somehow I managed to go down a point even though I am incredibly better than I was when I was younger. Maybe they're being harsher on everyone because of that fact.

River and Tumble, both manage to get threes. Johanna, gets a nine. Blight, a seven. Chaff, a nine. Seeder, a six. And finally Peeta is shown and Caesar actually has to cheek his paper to make sure the score is right. Mags and I watch the interaction curiously.

"Peeta Mellark, with a twelve," My eyes grow wide and they just get wider as Caesar continues, "Katniss Everdeen, also with a twelve."

A day passes where we're supposed to be getting ready for our interviews, but none of us do. We all hang out in the bar for one last goodbye. Cashmere is visibly upset as she laughs with Enobaria about old memories they've had as mentors together. I join them, only to be rushed by a hug from the blond herself.

"It'll be alright," I feel so bad for her. Both of us go through the same thing, and we've worked hard at that "thing" so stuff like this doesn't happen. But it seems even if we slept with all of Panem we'd still be in this situation.

She pulls back, frowning, "It's just unfair."

"I know."

Her hands press on my cheeks, "I am so sorry for you, and for Annie..." the mention of her name makes me more upset, "Why don't we do the usual Career Pact? You, me, Gloss, Enobaria, Brutus?"

The mentioned names move in closer and smile towards me, we're all friends, we've all discussed things... we've all won our Games with brute force. I shake my head, "I can't Cashmere."

"Why?" She whines as Gloss throws his arm around her protectively.

"You know why," I try to dance my way around the words because I don't like seeing Cashmere so upset, "If we did this _pact_ there would be no room for Mags, and you know I'm not doing anything without her."

All four of them are unresponsive. I'm not wrong, this is exactly what would happen. Before any more words are shared, before anything is said about Mags and her ability in these Games I leave. Luckily Haymitch greets me with a beer, dragging me out of the room of mingling people and into the hallway, grabbing Johanna along the way.

He's still stressed and I can tell he's playing a face, "You're still on right?"

We both nod.

"Good, they're saying stupid things right now about not wanting allies... they _require_ Beetee for your alliance," he keeps his words normal but places accent on certain things, "I don't care _who_ gets District Three, just do it so Katniss and Peeta agree to trust you. Here, take this," he presses some gold bangle into my hands, "If Katniss decides to be uncooperative again show her this. It's mine and she should recognize it."

"Haymitch, things will work out fine," I look him in the eye, "I promise."

"Good," he lets up a smirk, "I figured you would like this plan. Don't forget to keep the _spark_ alive... Oh, and until you can all take _flight_ and be _free_ in the arena just remember: _bread_ can keep you alive for _days_ and a _roll_ can sustain you for _hours_..."

I follow the coded messages. Either Johanna or I will need to get Beetee and possibly Wiress who will help get us out of the arena... At the end of the day we need to keep Katniss alive. It take a few minutes for the bread message to make sense but eventually I pick out the words, the loaf of the bread will somehow reveal the day we are to be liberated and the rolls must somehow allude to the hour it is to happen.

Johanna punches my shoulder, "Give me the bracelet, you can find Beetee."

I shake my head, "Oh, hell no, Johanna. Katniss hates you, I should be the one to get them."

"We'll flip a coin," she throws her hand to her hip and cocks her head, bringing out her token – a small coin that was passed down in her family, she keeps it in her shoe and says the man on the front used to be an old leader of Panem before the Dark Days.

"Heads."

She tosses it to the air and lands it on her hand, we both lean in to see the man on the brown front. It's his face alright. I try to suppress my grin but I can't and I chuckle at her, "Have fun with Nuts and Volts, Johanna."

I watch her bite down on her lip and turn to me in a threatening manner, "Fuck. You."

The day passes slowly at that point and soon our stylists, old escorts, and mentors are shuffling us back down into the Remake Center for more makeovers – especially because most of us need them. Powder is pressed, liquids are dripped and soaps are scrubbed but eventually we are "pretty" again and sat down in the back of the interview rooms where Caesar sits on the stage and greets the first victor – Cashmere.

She plays up her tears and begins talking about how sad she is that the Capitol will lose both her and her brother in these Games. Caesar goes on to pry that she feels bad for the Capitol people and how upset they must be to lose all of us. It's clever and loaded language, making the audience cry and grow to detest these Games. And it doesn't really stop, her brother goes on their and uses the same pathos.

Enobaria and Brutus don't do too much in changing the opinions of the people, they merely act as if all of this is normal, none of it is heartbreaking, though, Brutus does remind everyone he has a newborn daughter back home. It's Beetee who comes out and changes the tune back to the original intent, he goes on using big intellectual words that accost the Capitol and really are meant to say the people could change these Games if they wanted to.

I give Mags a kiss for good luck as she leaves us and greets Caesar with her gargled, accented District Four speech. They don't cut away from her on the broadcast, but the things she is yelling crack me up. Only District Four will understand it and that gets me laughing even louder.

Chaff eventually comes over, asking what all the tributes must be thinking, "What is she saying?"

"Oh you, know... what usual old ladies talk about. Burning down the Capitol, cooking them all in a stew, and calling the Games a mockery of the human civilization."

Chaff chuckles with me at the angry little old lady up there, "I would never want to cross her, that's for sure."

I wring my hands together as I am told to head up on the stage next, my hands feel for the piece of paper I've brought with me and worked on my entire stay here. My writing isn't a language, mostly it is a bunch of symbols that mean nothing to anyone but me. Since I can't read well I don't even try to write out letters, but I know what I've written.

Caesar greets me with opened arms and sits me on the chair next to him, "And how is life with Finnick Odair?"

I give him a smile showing off my teeth, "It's alright Caesar but it's been better."

"And why's that? Are the Games making you anxious?"

"That, and there's always the possibility I might not make it back. I might not ever get to see my one true love again," The females in the audience swoon and squeal as if I'm referring to every single one of them. But I'm not. I'm thinking of one girl who I would do anything for, I'm thinking of Annie.

"Really? Your one true love?"

"Yes, and if I have your permission I would like to read a small poem I have prepared for her."

"A poem?" Caesar's eyes light up like of all people it might be for him, "Please, Finnick, please read it!"

It's my cue but at first all I do is look at the symbols and begin to blush. I hope Annie is watching, that someone, somewhere has realized what I'm about to do for her and has got her sitting in front of the TV listening for my voice.

_My perfect mermaid,_

_who swims so beautifully_

_and talks so freely._

_Even in my darkest hours,_

_you are the one to pull me to shore._

_To breathe life into me once more._

_There is no other I love._

_I will stand by you always,_

_through life and death._

_In a world without me,_

_you will be strong._

_In a world without me,_

_you will go on._

_My mermaid,_

_you know who are,_

_the magical being I speak of._

_One day we will be happy,_

_together swimming,_

_among our underwater kingdom._

_Because you and I,_

_will always have,_

_my last moments on our lips._

I close the note and look at the women in the crowd crying, fanning themselves. My eyes force up towards the camera, trying to hold everything together, trying to connect to Annie wherever she may be.

"And go home to her you shall, Finnick," Caesar pulls me out of my lull and his sparkling eyes shine as he speaks to me, "in one way or another. That was beautiful."

"Thanks," I say plainly as I stand and say my goodbye to the crowd. I walk quietly and slowly back to the waiting room. Mags is there waiting and she takes me in next to her.

A blond with a tissue pressed to her face makes her way towards me. Cashmere attempts to smile as she joins me, "That was really pretty there, Finnick, I'm sure she liked it."

I get nervous, that Snow might be stringing here up as we speak. But it's irrational fear. Maybe I should have pretended to be over her, but it's not like I used her name at all. Snow will still figure out a way to use her as means of torture.

"Yeah! And if they wanted to change the games they could!" Johanna's voice sounds loudly over the TV's as she shakes her fist at the screen, "Guess they don't care about any of us really..." she folds her arms before getting caught up in another rant.

Chaff continues the tirade, adding to the pile everyone's started. Complaining about all the sacrifices we've made, all the things we've helped with in the Capitol. How they're eliminating the group of people who know the Games best. But now we're all waiting for, something... for the Girl on Fire to light it a flame. She walks on to the stage in a wedding dress knowing full well what everyone else has already said.

They lose it. Tears fly, accusations are shared. Katniss looks before all the people and seems visibly upset herself. She talks to Caesar and as if on a cue she stands up to twirl.

For a while I assume the effect is just the smoke while she's spinning, until a little pearl pops off and falls to the ground. In one burst of light the dress is taken in flame and all that is left is a black detailed slip covered in feathers. Dark feathers, except for these bright white sleeves.

Caesar and the rest of the crowd take a moment of silence to absorb it all. Katniss looks stunning.

"You look like... l-like a bird," he says still shocked and feeling the feathers.

"Like a Mockingjay."

There's that word. Mockingjay. Katniss: the one who survived when she shouldn't have. They finish and it leaves the crowd in shambles when Peeta walks out in his savvy way to make small talk with Caesar. He talks about how he and Katniss are already married. Everyone tries to move for Katniss and talk to her when she walks down but then he says it. And everything stops.

"If only there wasn't the baby to worry about."

We all bite our tongues and Katniss blushes with her eyes growing wide. I look at her, we all do. _Pregnant_. No, it can't be true. Or is it? The crowd is devastated and now the games really ARE inhumane. On either instinct or truth Katniss grabs her stomach as she continues down the stairs.

We all head back for the final bows after that and out of nowhere I feel a hand take mine. All around me, every single victor is holding hands. Chaff grins at me as Katniss holds on to what's left of his arm. Even Brutus takes a hand, reluctantly but in the heat of the moment he does it. I hold Mags' hand tightly and we look out at the audience. It's a riot out there, utter chaos. They cut the power on us.

We're shuffled off the stage and Katniss and Peeta, who I assume started the hand holding, are kept away from us, isolated before the Games begin tomorrow morning. Johanna and I run after them, since we still have an alliance to secure. But they're taken away and I look at Johanna for something to say.

"Everyone saw the hands, they cut the power, but they saw it," she stares at me with a mixture of pain and optimism in those eyes. I cock my head a bit and I pull her in for a hug. This might be our last night.

"Good luck tomorrow."

"Good luck, Finnick," she smirks, " I guess I'll see you for the wedding."

It's in reference to a dream I had long ago, a dream in a perfect world where I might stand a chance of marrying Annie. I clasp Johanna's cheek once last time before we leave for our separate chambers. My sleep is, yet again, restless.

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><p><strong>Your reviews are greatly appreciated, thank you for the kind words! Please continue to enjoy.<strong>


	45. The 75th Hunger Games (part one)

I am awoken by a loud clock and taken downstairs. We are driven around a bit, and have the trackers placed in our arms. Bex greets me instead of Noqall when we're beneath the arena and it unsettles me, she has this secret life that she never fully explains and I wonder if she knows about the rebel plot. Most likely not, given her status, but I wouldn't put it past her to know something of it.

"Okay, time for you to do some talking! Why are you here, and how do you know always know so much?"

"Well that's no way to talk to someone who has helped you so much..."

"Helped me?" I laugh at her, the anxious feeling I get in the pit of my stomach returns, probably because in several minutes I'll be killing what few friends I have, "All you've done is confuse me!"

She sighs, "Finnick, do you know who my father is? The head Gamemaker? I can do and go wherever I want, I find what you are doing to be intriguing."

"And what am I doing exactly?"

"Playing a little Game... with Jabberjays, Mockingbirds, and Mockingjays... You're taking part in it."

The countdown begins. She takes my hands and rubs them slightly, "I'm sorry if I confused you, but it will all make sense eventually. I am really trying to help, and it doesn't end here, it won't end here."

"That's great Bex, but I don't know what my odds are in this Game."

She looks up at me, through those glasses, "They're in your favor."

"Ten seconds," a robotic voice calls out above us.

I head into the pod and watch the girl, I give a small wave but for some reason something in the very back of my mind tells me this is the last time we'll see each other ever again.

My pod begins to reach the top when I begin to smell it. The salty water, the warm breeze, the sound of waves crashing on the sand. I open my eyes and smile widely at the sea water surrounding me, and the palm trees on the beach.

Oh, is this a place for a boy from the water...

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><p>I eagerly await the countdown, practically mouthing the numbers myself. I can't wait to dip my head in the water and let the ocean consume me, how many days have I been deprived of this, of what keeps me functioning? The sand that surrounds is golden and wrapped with a thick treeline behind it. I look at the golden Cornucopia and get ready. Thirty seconds. Around me I can't spot Katniss, Peeta or Mags. We must all be separated and jumbled.<p>

Being from District Twelve I don't expect them to be able to swim so I'll most likely have to get my weapons and find them. I look at Gloss's glare, everyone knows I have a District advantage being on the water right now.

I get itchy with excitement. Five, Four, Three, Two... I dive in. Letting the water rush into my mouth as I smile. I look at the beautiful creatures below me, noticing the belt they have on us is keeping me afloat, I make it to the Cornucopia in seconds using my typical strokes.

Quickly I rush into the mouth and grab several tridents and nets. My eyes stop when I spy Katniss ready to launch an arrow through me.

"District Twelve, huh? Didn't know there were any lakes around you guys?" I say this slowly as I take my trident and get it ready in kill position, surely she must recognize this position, hadn't I taught it to her only two days ago? "Good thing we're allies huh?" I smile, flashing the bracelet from Haymitch, she watches it, still unsure. Woof starts running up behind her and my voice grows loud, "Duck!" She does what I say without hesitation.

I pierce the trident right through him. Guess the little victor-hand holding didn't really go too far for some people. The canon sounds and first kill goes to Finnick Odair. I look over at Katniss who seems grateful.

"I'm going to get Peeta," I step in closer to her, watching the other tributes still figuring out the floatation device, Mags start to paddle. Good, can't leave her, she's one of the few people who still likes me. I bet the cameras are catching the big beam on my face right now since the Games couldn't be more perfect for me right now. I look at Katniss getting ready to jump in after Peeta. If she does, I know she plans on breaking away from me.

"No, I will... you have the baby!" I say outrageously playing up her secret with a pat on her stomach. She blushes as I dive in, swimming up to Peeta in no time. I look up at him as I bob in the water.

"Need a hand, bread-boy?" I smile. He laughs and graciously takes my arms as I help him down into the water. He looks around nervously as he almost sinks, but I throw him on my shoulder and he clasps his hands over my chest then I paddle us back to shore, Mags and Katniss meet us there.

"I've only ever been in the bathtub at my victor's house. Never swam before."

"Never too late to learn, first we should get safe though," We head onto the sandy beach as Gloss, Cashmere, Brutus, and Enobaria come up, "Don't trust One and Two," I lay out flatly. The bloodshed begins as we're on our way running through the forest. I smash the small leafy greens at my feet, leaving a large path for Mags to follow through.

I watch her panting, "Hey guys, let's take a break for a moment." I help Mags sit down. And for the first time I have the opportunity to let the adrenaline wear off, feeling just how hot and humid it really is here in the arena. Sweat pours from me quickly and I am also getting thirsty, but so far we've only seen saltwater.

Katniss goes up a tree to look back at the Cornucopia. I know what she is seeing, but I refuse to picture it, I refuse to watch my friends get slaughtered by each other. She comes back down, with a conflicting look on her face.

"Didn't stop fighting did they?"

"Nope."

"That's right, because these are still Games, Katniss, no amount of hand holding will change that."

I watch her inch for her bow and I carefully pull out my trident and nonchalantly hold it at my shoulder. She knows what I can do in seconds and I know where she can aim that arrow. We are caught in a staring contest. She wants to end the alliance now, but I can't let her, not after I promised Haymitch. If I have to carry this girl around on my back with broken bones to keep her quiet, I'll do it.

"We're all capable of being killers, you don't win this by luck," I nod over at Peeta showing a rock to Mags, "except Peeta maybe."

She continues to inch on me and I make a note not to mention him again. Luckily, the man himself walks up in front of me, "Guys, let's keep looking for water. We're all getting thirsty and I bet there's some up over there," He points north and I shrug.

I'm glad he stepped between Katniss and me, this way we all get back in line and keep moving. The beach is similar to Four, but a lot of it is different too, thick new plants, most of which I assume to be poisonous, strange creatures with long tongues, colorful birds. I wonder where we are.

We walk for a while and I carelessly look around getting bored, it's only when I hear Katniss yell that I stop, but only for a minute until Peeta's entire body gets thrusted into me. We both tumble back and Katniss runs up screaming, holding Peeta and crying hysterically. I look at them for a moment watching her hold him in her arms and weep. _She loves him_. Whether she knows it or not. She holds her head to his lifeless chest but there's nothing to hear.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for continuing to read!<strong>


	46. The 75th Hunger Games (part two)

I push her out of the way and begin a rhythm with my hands. She's in a crazed state.

"Don't! You're going to kill him!" She comes to attack me, messing up my count and I can't deal with this interference so I push her off her feet. I get back on beat and lean down, pressing my lips on Peeta's, holding his nose shut. Through the corners of my eyes I can see Katniss lower her bow, finally catching on to what I am doing.

His lips are soft, very soft and I watch his chest as it heaves, pushing large breaths of air in through his mouth. Eventually I go back to pushing his heart and miraculously it starts pumping again. He coughs and tries to hold up his head. I give him a grin as he figures out I saved his life.

"How does it feel to get a kiss from Panem's hottest bachelor... and stay asleep?" I joke. Katniss jumps over to him and hugs him tightly. Just as I do for Annie. Her and I are both protectors, it's in the core of who we are. She is hit with various emotion, extreme happiness, anger, saddness.

"I was so worried Peeta!" Her voice is just like it was when she found him with nightlock in his hands. She's convinced me, and I can tell they're in love – but she still has her reservations for some reason, I always assumed she was a liar. I suppose I was also jealous of her, she would never be sold as a slave, no one would touch someone known for being a star-crossed lover.

"How did you know about the force field?" I ask as we all settle back down and continue onward. She gives some crap story about how the Capitol fixed her ear to it. I go along with it in a cheeky way, "Then by all means, please lead."

She reluctantly heads out in front but throws nuts and rocks at her left just in case. Walking. I am getting tired of it, but it's mostly the heat that is just hell. We keep heading out and Mags picks up some nuts and starts munching on them after they're fried from the force field.

"Those aren't safe Mags!" Katniss yells, "They could be poison!"

She grumbles at her but smiles. Leaving the other two to look at me for explanation.

"She used to eat them to stay alive during her games," Mags' games. I've only seen them once, she looks nothing like she does now, age is probably the main factor in that. Mags was quite capable with her hands back them, so unlike her arthritic character today.

After a while, when Peeta and Katniss accept that Mags is still okay they go on to eat the nuts as well. I trust Mags from the get-go, but I will admit I was a tad suspicious as well. Katniss climbs another tree, she's quite the spider.

She comes back down and wipes her hands on her uniform, "No water except the ocean. The arena looks like a circle though." I assess this as we keep walking. A circle, and so small. We ran into that force field in only a few hours.

I can hear Peeta stumbling and Mags' breathing get heavier behind me.

"Let's make camp here Katniss," We agree and she goes off to hunt. I sit Peeta down, the force field did a number on his head. I grab some tall grass as Mags goes off for more nuts.

I hand him a fistful of the leaves and he eyes me curiously, "Here, I'll teach you how to weave. We do it all the time in Four."

He takes them and watches my quick hands maneuver the stock to form large sheets, sturdy sheets. Mags comes back with nuts and helps us. Between the two of us we're finished. I laugh as Peeta still struggles with what I gave him.

We gather some sticks and set up the strong sheets into a lean to. Mags and Peeta roast the nuts while I tie everything to keep it sturdy. The shelter is great and we have some food, all accomplished within the hour. Katniss comes back and we count the eight canons.

She has a hideous looking rat that I turn my nose to. We can't really light a fire, but Peeta uses his clever mind to fry the cubes of meat on the force field. I bet the Gamemakers love that and are trying to figure out a way to make it impossible for us to do it next time.

The meat is better than it looks and I brace myself as the faces appear in the skies. I watch it start with Woof who I killed today. It goes on to Tumble, and then we see Blight. Johanna is probably upset. I wonder if she got to Beetee and Wiress, I hope she's at least being pleasant. Oh, wait, it's Johanna, I'm sure she's not.

That little joke keeps me happy for a second until I see Seeder. Mags pats my shoulder, she was good friends with her and they loved to discuss their District recipes. My heart is still heavy as I hear a clink hit the ground. We all stare at the parachute.

"Well, Peeta died today. Why not let him open it?" He goes to get it.

We take turns passing the little metal tube around, each of us attempting various things with it. I jokingly try to put it on my pinky and fight with it – it's not a weapon. By the time we're all ready to head to bed I offer to take watch. Katniss refuses.

"Sweetheart, what I did for Peeta back there was called saving his life," her reluctance towards my help is getting on my nerves, "If I wanted to kill you I would have done it a while ago."

Mags moves to her side and offers a spot next to her. I take it and lie down with her, but it takes me a long time for my body to actually rest. Images haunt me in my sleep, of Annie on her own, trapped by some invisible source. Oddly enough I am relieved when Katniss' panicked voice brings me out of them.

"Wake up! Run!"

I grab Mags without need for clarification and we all start running. It takes a few moments but I look behind me and understand why. A think whitish fog is slowly creeping on us and as it reaches out for us its little splashes burn on my skin. Adrenaline starts pumping and I move faster.

Peeta stumbles along in front of me, Katniss tries to help him along. I do my best to trample over the foliage and try to get some distance between the fog and our group. With Mags following I continue to run quickly and look back only for a minute where I find Katniss holding Peeta. It must be a combination of his artificial leg and the poison from the fog which seems to be paralyzing us. I hoist Mags on my shoulder and after a while find my arms are beginning to twitch.

Mags smacks my head a bit as she looks behind her. Katniss can't hold Peeta, I run back to the fog.

"Take Mags, I got Peeta," Katniss and I switch loads and we increase speed for a while.

I can hear the waves through my trained ears and try to lead us in their direction. But no, my body is unresponsive and it takes every little ounce of energy to move it. I watch Katniss as she breathes harder and harder. Her arms are giving out too.

"I can't do it anymore Finnick," She is visibly upset as she labors on. Mags and I share a look with one another and I turn away – because I can't tell her "yes," I can't tell her to save Katniss because I want so much for her to survive instead. Tears well in my eyes and pain starts boiling as she gets off of Katniss. She runs for me and plants a kiss on my lips. Before I can even say anything about her actions she runs off into the fog, my lip quivers (not just from the poison) and it takes every remaining pocket of strength in my being to stop from following after her.

We can't carry on like this, we can't move further. This is it. This is how I will die in my Hunger Games. Annie will never see me again. Maybe Cashmere will win. Years will pass, more victors will be crowned. The Capitol will still rule over the Districts. Something powers me through, though with every second my foot moves another part of my body refuses to work properly.

Eventually I fall onto the ground and feel sand. Did we make it? I just close my eyes as I wait for the fog to consume me – with my last few moments alive I try to picture Mags' face, smiling, hugging Annie and I as we eat meals at her house. She would have loved the wedding if we ever had it. I doubt I'll ever be so lucky to even imagine it.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	47. The 75th Hunger Games (part three)

Waves call to me, I can hear them... but my body is too destroyed to move. Every now and again I feel the uncontrollable spasm of a muscle but none of it is my own doing. My head aches as it spins with trying to place the memories of what just occurred. Sounds mix in with the waves, the crunch of human feet on sand, voices mumbling together. Suddenly my body is jolted by salted water being poured onto me.

The stinging sensation pulsates through my body and I moan out, still I can't open my eyes. Am I being attacked? All I can do is feel, and I feel the warm water being applied to my ravaged body, the poison is thick and I can pinpoint where it attempts to seep out of my body. Yet it still feels as if it is falling back into the hole it just exited from. I want to cry and hiss out since this new hurt is more painful than the original but I still can't respond. Hands move me to the water, my body drags on the sand and it cuts into my torn flesh causing everything to burn even longer.

It must be Katniss and Peeta, no enemy, that slowly dips my toes into the water. I can feel the sun on my face and reflecting heat from the sand as I am laid in its wake for what must be the healing process. Everything burns just as bad as they pull my calves in, I still shake but once it's up to my thighs most of the pain is turning to relief – I open my eyes and catch the glimpse of water sucking out the fog's poison.

After what must be an hour of slowly dragging my body into the water, they have me neck deep in everything and my eyes have reopened. My breathing quickens since by now I know what the pain will be and how horrible it'll feel.

"The face is the worst part Finnick. But once you get it done, it's all better."

With one last sigh I go in, I let the salt fill my nostrils and wet my hair. My eyes burn but only briefly, slowly I start to move my arms under the water. I kick my legs out and try get used to the water around here. It feels like District Four, and that's what I want it to be. A place where Mags and Annie are happy and safe.

I stay down as long as I like and finally return to the surface with a smile, "I'm feeling better. And you?"

"Yeah, thanks," She seems deep in thought so I continue to swim around again until I'm doing my normal strokes. I go down and propel myself like a dolphin to the top and twirl in the air. Apparently Peeta went out into the woods for water using the little metal thing we were sent. I forgot what Katniss called it – a spile, I think.

I bob around with Katniss in the water and it's nice to pretend nothing happened over the night. She's a fairly decent swimmer herself, though she has no rhythm to how she swims. Eventually I catch her sniggering as she watches me stare disapprovingly at the skin on my arm, it's all puffed and sagged, waiting to be regrown as new.

"Aw, poor Finnick! First time you aren't pretty?"

"Girl, I'm flawless. But it is a little daunting looking at you as a mirror," We both share a laugh and I guess it's a sign we're getting along. Maybe she's figured out just how much I've sacrificed to keep Peeta alive already?

Speaking of Peeta it's my suggestion to go gather him and journey on. The pair of us exit the water, in much higher spirits than before, and catch him holding the spile in the tree. But all around him lay a new enemy, big creatures with tails and human-esque faces. Monkeys.

"Peeta, slowly walk back to us, please," Katniss' voice is sweet and gentle, there must be over a hundred orange monkeys standing above Peeta, ready to pounce.

He comes walking to us like nothing is amiss but something in our eyes makes him look up above and that starts it. I instinctively grab my trident as he is pounced by the creatures. They're not monkeys, they're mutts. Already, I've lost two tridents because of the fog and have only my one, but it doesn't stop me from pulverizing the monsters as they come down to us.

Katniss takes out her bow, and Peeta's fending for himself with something... I can't bother myself to look right now. The monkeys latch on quickly with their fangs and I spill their insides on the sand without second thought.

I see lots dropping by Katniss. There's a scream, but not one I recognize as Peeta or Katniss. I finish off the last couple stragglers but they oddly retreat and I take it as my cue to assess the damage of the attack.

Peeta and Katniss are standing over River from District Six, still twitching from either her death or lack of morphine. I give Katniss a silent nod, so her and Peeta can say whatever they'd like to her and I'll be on guard. As I walk I try to add it together, sometime during the attack Peeta must have been aimed for a death kill and River stepped in, it's damn lucky she was there.

Haymitch told me they were on our side, but I never assumed they would come in handy ever. I head back just in time to see Peeta getting drawn on by her blood. They drift her out in the water when the cannon sounds and we are all forced to bathe again to wash off the new blood. We lay on the beach for the night.

"Don't scratch, that'll make it worse," Katniss scolds Peeta and I as we pick off the crusty copper skin. I won't be able to sleep tonight with Mags still fresh on my mind so I decide to take first shift. Katniss attempts to scratch herself in her sleep and I can't help but smirk at her ignoring her own advice. But the little bit of irony does nothing to stop the tears from coming. Big, silent tears for Mags. The last remaining half of my family. Now gone.

I try and remember every little detail of her, before I can forget it for even a second. Her wavy gray hair, that smile that could light up a room. My breathing quickens as I remember even the tiniest of kindnesses she did for me, saving me in my Games, getting me through the Capitol's, volunteering for Annie. I will never make it up to that woman, that great, great woman.

The night escalates my depression and I feel alone, even though I'm right here in the water that should make me feel at home. All I can do is stare into the moonlight as the tears refuse to stop. Half-way through the night I can't take my stillness anymore and need to find something to occupy my mind with. _Always need to be doing something_, _never getting caught up in my thoughts_.

I head into the water and collect shellfish of all the many fish down in the water below. It keeps my mind at ease as I collect them, I make baskets as well to place them in. By the time Katniss wakes up I am working on another basket and already have water from the woods set out.

She, doesn't mention what must be visible to everyone, my red eyes – instead she silently eats and we watch a parachute fall. A green medicine in a tin. She plasters it on and her skin looks disgusting.

She eggs me on again, "Poor _flawless_ Finnick," I jokingly roll my eyes, but I still reluctantly smear the medication on my face. Katniss reminds me of some dead ghoul with the medicine (so I know I can't be looking any better), though it feels good and at least stops the itching.

"Come here," I whisper to Katniss and can't help but silently laugh as we both move to stand over Peeta, still sleeping. Katniss catches on and tries not to laugh herself.

"Hey Peeta, good morning, baby..." He slowly flutters his blond eyelashes open. Ready for a romantic morning kiss. But instead he wakes up to our green faces of horror as we smile bitterly at him. He screams in horror, he actually screams and scrambles backwards.

Katniss and I double back in laughter. The laughing halts for a minute and we allow ourselves to look up at him, but his face is still shocked and we can't help but hold each other as another laugh attack hits us. Katniss has a really pretty laugh. I am still giggling when Peeta puts the medicine on.

It's nice to have small moments of humor in a place that offers so little. Out of nowhere we all turn to watch a huge wave comes up by the Cornucopia, we're not in its path, but our stuff will still get wet so we relocate. There's a canon and a body removed from the location of the wave.

All of us pick up on voices off to the distance and we decide to hide in the brush – I keep my trident loaded on my shoulder. I try and peek out to identify the three red figures that move towards us. One stumbles behind, another spins in a circle and the last one slaps both on the head. Johanna.

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><p>"Jo!" I run out to her without remission and we embrace with a hug. She has a nasty look on her face and I can't help but laugh at her getting stuck with Nuts and Volts, "Did you have fun? The coin never lies."<p>

"Next time I'll shove the coin up your ass how does that sound?"

"Wouldn't really bother me... or you, I bet?" I wink to her, alluding to some of the more salacious activities we have participated in.

"You're a pig," she says biting away her grin. Katniss and Peeta work there way over to us and we all observe Beetee and Wiress. Beetee is a bloody mess at the moment, barely standing, and Wiress continues to spin around in some circle chanting various words.

"She's been stuck like that... and this one," she points to a practically unconscious Beetee, "he was stabbed in the back by Enobaria getting some damn wire and can hardly walk."

"Tick tock, tick tock!" Wiress mumbles louder.

"Be quiet!" Johanna pushes her to the ground and Katniss steps up to defend her.

"Don't talk to her like that." Katniss stares Johanna in the eye and I can tell both strong females are about to snap.

"Oh, I'm sorry... who the hell are you? You probably don't know this since you're new to all this, but no one tells me what to fucking do," she laughs at Katniss' audacity, "You know, Haymitch said that in order to have an alliance with you, this is what it took. So here, you can take care of them."

"You shouldn't treat her like that," Katniss says pointing to Wiress wiggling in the sand. I see the fire in both their eyes and watch Johanna put her hand on her ax while Katniss fingers for an arrow. This can't happen. Without warning I pick Johanna up at the waist and carry her away.

"What the hell are you doing, Finnick?" She yells, scratching me and kicking me.

"Calm down, Johanna."

"No!" She yells as she rips one of my scabs open, we watch the blood gush out as I take her to the water and dunk her in. I yawn from my lack of sleep, which is just contributing to her anger. She needs to calm down though and eventually she does settle and I help her peel off the blood and clean up. Katniss and Peeta do the same for Beetee and Wiress and eventually Johanna gives up resisting so I carry her back over to the others.

"You were saying Johanna?" She looks at me with eyes full of scorn through her wet hair which already threatens to spike back up.

"I was saying," she throws in her attitude but it's not as hostile as before, "we were caught in a blood rain storm, thought it was water until we got this metal taste in our mouth. Volts insisted on carrying that dumb metal thing around and along the way Blight hit the force field. So, that's the story, now where's the food, Finnick?" Katniss looks at Johanna in disgust, if only she knew the real story.

I feed the others and head to a restless sleep again, this time filled with dreams of Annie and Mags in pain and in torture. I faintly hear Johanna and Katniss talking, maybe they'll get along now though I doubt it. Women like those two always need to be in control, so they will continue to clash.

A nightmare grabs me and it takes every happy thought I can muster to drag me out of it, some creature prying in to my body and ripping off my skin. I open my eyes to Katniss explaining Wiress's tick tocking. The arena is apparently a clock, with a different torture happening every hour.

"Why not?" I shrug, Johanna looks unconvinced but finds it useless to argue, we'll all just have to wait and see.

Beetee grabs his wire that he so desperately risked everything for at the Cornucopia when we decide to head back to that exact spot. A single load of bread comes in like it had yesterday, from District Three and with a total of twenty-four rolls. I don't think we're ready for the escape today, but Beetee seems to be thinking it all through.

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><p><strong>Reviewscomments/feedback all greatly appreciated, thank you!**


	48. The 75th Hunger Games (part four)

As we swim to the Cornucopia I stock up on tridents and Johanna buries herself in more axes. Wiress is singing in the background and it drowns out my other thoughts, a smile comes to my face as I imagine Annie doing the same thing to calm herself. We all look towards Peeta who has drawn a map of the arena with the clock sections divided. If we follow it, we might be able to avoid the triggered attacks.

He points out where the squadrons are, starting from twelve and going down, then he begins to label them. Monkey Mutts, Blood Rain, Lighting, Fog, Wave, some section we saw a tribute get mauled in. We don't know them all but knowing this much, we'll at least be able to know when and where to go and how to brace for it.

We all stop talking for a moment and I realize it's silent. Wiress has stopped singing, we turn and catch Enobaria slitting her throat. Johanna and Katniss move to attack mode and I stand to guard their backs as Gloss and Cashmere come in on the side to counter.

Within seconds it is over, we've held our own. Enobaria and Brutus are off. I turn and stare right into Gloss' lifeless eyes, an arrow still vibrating through his throat. Johanna raises her brows at me as she removes her ax from Cashmere's head. She never liked them they way I did. Even though they were going to and actually attempting to kill us, I still feel bad.

But I don't get much time to mourn as the Cornucopia begins spinning, throwing us all off our balance and sending everyone and the weapons flying. It causes my stomach to heave and the spinning doesn't relent for another few minutes, but we gather ourselves and everyone is okay when it does.

Wiress is floating off with the wire, and Katniss volunteers to go get it from her bloody body as I go to fetch Beetee bobbing in the water as well. On the way I swim pass Cashmere's body, dying the water around her red – a deep ruby red, her favorite. Before I can throw up out of guilt, being spun, or killing I grab Beetee and we all head back to shore. Beetee finally seems awake and recovering.

We are at a loss once we gather on shore, there's no clue what section we're in or what time it is. Katniss and I seem the only too on our feet enough to go get water, so we head off together.

"That was pretty smart, figuring out the clock," I say, trying to start conversation.

"Well, it was all Wiress, really, but," she hacks into the tree and sticks the spile in, "we needed to know it. But now every time we say something, they'll try and change it again."

We watch the water come out and I hear a scream. Like a little girl. I try to recall who's still left and wait for the canon. I turn, about to ask Katniss until I notice she is frozen, it takes only a second before she runs off into the woods.

"Katniss wait!" I yell, grabbing the spile and heading out after her. But it doesn't help she just stops at a clearing of trees, ignoring my voice and looking for the source of the screams. I turn around, helping her look for it too, their pitch is loud and frightening just like a real little girl, like someone too young for these Games. She eventually shoots something, her eyes seem red and she comes back over to me when we both stop again to acknowledge a new voice.

"Finnick!" My heart stops, dead in its tracks. That scream didn't belong to Katniss, Johanna or anyone still here in this arena. That scream is one I've heard many a night, as my arms wrapped around it's owner. It's Annie. I don't care who kills me at this point, I bash through the trees and bushes, letting them hit and smack me in the face. _I need to find Annie_.

"Annie!" I yell, tears starting to drown my eyes, "Annie!" I yell louder trying to overcome her helpless screech that pierces through me. I am stuck at the base of a tree, biting my lip, and wandering around its roots as I try to find her. Why is she here? Why is she in the arena? Every time she screams my name I scream back hers in response, tears now fall down my face as I fear any minute can bring her death.

"Annie's not there, Finnick," Katniss' voice is soft as she shoots down a black bird, ceasing the screams, "They're Jabberjays."

I shake my head, that _was_ Annie. It was _her_, her voice. She's in trouble and they're doing _something_ to her, they're _torturing_ her. I sink to my knees as another scream sounds, this time a man for Katniss.

She attempts to run off and shoot the painful voice but I grab her hand, "We're getting out of here, come on."

We try to find our way out, but Annie starts up again and I can't stop myself. I want to turn and run again but Katniss keeps a firm grip on me, as if steadying herself as well. Nothing we could say could possibly calm either of us. We continue walking and finally see the beach. Annie's voice is ringing loudly in my ears and I can't stop it. It is so real.

I run quickly only to smack my faces on something and fall back, my nose starts gushing out blood as I realize the worse thing possible has happened – they've trapped us in here. Katniss pounds on the glass-like barrier and Peeta only offers her a saddened look as they try to push their palms against each others. Johanna shakes her head at me.

For the next hour I will be in hell.

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><p>I give in and sink deep into the ground, pulling my knees to my chin and pushing my hands to my ears. My eyes shut tightly and I try to put logic to it all. <em>It isn't real, Finnick<em>. Jabberjays._ It isn't real_. _Annie is okay_. But no, she's really not. The thoughts conflict with each other and I am trapped. Katniss tries shooting them, but she soon joins me in my position and we give in, we let them win and destroy us. The hour feels like entirety and even when it ends I know these screams will continue to haunt me. Eventually I feel an arm on my shoulder.

"It's over, Finn," I hear a sound come from a human, but I'm not really sure if the _voices_ have stopped so I don't want to listen yet. But I do look up and find Johanna standing in front of me, pulling me up for a much needed hug. She takes the spile from me and heads back in to get the water.

"They'll get you to!" Katniss protests.

"I don't have anyone left to lose," And with that she's gone.

My heart is still beating and I'm not over the attack yet, "I _heard_ her," I say looking at the group, "I heard Annie's scream."

Katniss nods, feeling the same pain I feel. It's as if the two worse people to get stuck in that hour did, we are both protectors and we have to keep those we love alive. Peeta tries to calm us both and tells us that the Capitol couldn't have killed our loves one, because they're interviewing our families right now for the Top Eight review back home. He says they must have changed the voices from those interviews into screams.

"That's a nice idealistic world you live in, Peeta... is that true Beete?" I ask, looking at the man as he pushes up his glasses, he knows everything about high tech things.

"Yes, it is very easy to manipulate voices, and I know the Captiol has the technology to do it."

It makes me feel better, but the attack leaves me uneasy. I can deal with any physical challenge thrown at me, but a mental, emotional one? Nothing could make me go back in there. My body takes me to the water and I close my eyes, letting its waves soak into me. Even with the waves lulling me into a rest I can hear Peeta explain to Katniss who Annie is... that she's mad, that the boy from her District was decapitated.

I clench my stomach and lay in the sand, trying to push out every single thought I have. Because I'm about to break, I know I am. It's happened once before, when Snow killed those I loved most. If he threatens to do the same with Annie, again, I'm done for. It's far too difficult to build yourself back up once you've broken to nothing. With shaking fingers I start weaving a new basket.

The bread arrives on time, just as I'm moving back to the beach. I count it carefully. Twenty Four rolls from my District. We have another day, I look over at Beetee who gives me a faint smile. He has his plan ready.

We lay down back on our beach. Katniss and Peeta are up alone as guards. Johanna whispers to me that it seems they want to split on us, but I doubt it, even though there are only three other tributes left besides us, I don't think they'd want to leave just yet.

My eyes drift and flutter in and out of sleep. Eventually I get trapped in this half-awake nightmare. The images are there, and so are the screams, but I can still hear the waves and feel the sand in the background. I am ship-wrecked. Everything around me spins, real memories, fake ones. I don't know who I am, why I am here, where I am. Who is Finnick Odair? This man who sleeps around with other women? Or this boy who can't handle where life has thrown him? Either way he's selfish. My mind begins to contort these horrid images of the Capitol torturing Annie, of them pulling at her fingers until her screams sound in my ears.

Her pained voice mixes with the lightning bolt that strikes at twelve and I wake up. I am sweating and breathing profusely. I look at everyone around me sleeping and try to place myself where I am, who I am, why I'm here. Katniss and Peeta are only talking softly by the water and I try and calm myself, nothing is amiss. The sand is still sticking to my hot sweaty body as I stand up and walk over to them.

"I'll take over the night shift," I let the kids sleep and then I sit awake myself, watching the waves. I am afraid to close my eyes again, because once I do I know my mind will conjure these terrible images and ideas, and I'd prefer not to let my mind wander any more.

I decide to swim again to keep my head clear, I gather shellfish and water. My eyes are sinking from the lack of sleep... I _should_ give in to rest but I can feel my mind cracking right now. I need to coach myself just to stay sane. _Don't think_, _just do_.

Waiting is hard when you're tired and dying from exhaustion, but I do it, I wait for the others to stir. Once they finally do I regale them with my fish and water and we all eat a hearty breakfast. Johanna bites into as many fish as she can eat and Katniss and Peeta announce that they're heading off to teach Peeta to swim.

"I'm not reviving you again," I joke as Peeta heads into the water. I watch them carefully for a few moments and determine it's only harmless. Johanna is still struggling to wake up from her half-sleep as well. For no reason in particular I throw an empty clam at her.

She shoots me bloodshot eyes of rage and I crawl back from her location. She is a mess, her hair wild and untamed, the dried blood on her face alluding to something sinister and sleepless eyes that cry out for relief. Her head shakes as I jokingly move backwards again.

"It wasn't me! I swear!" I laugh, and pretend to fear for my life. She picks up her ax and Beetee looks at me from his own food. I point at him, "It was him!" I can't help mixing my laughter with screams as Johanna moves closer, "It was Beetee!"

Johanna looks at Beetee and back at me, I can tell she's trying not to laugh. Her response is to take the butt of her ax and bludgeon my head with it.

"Yeah, yeah, I deserved that," I wink to her, "Eat your breakfast."

"So, today's a good day," I nod over to Beetee, "Isn't it?" I try to hint to him that we should get going and he nods, understanding it all. The sun is making me more energetic and I've been awake the whole night so I'm a little amused right now. Johanna is still eating and I grab her arm, "You know what my favorite drink was in the Capitol?"

"If you say Sex on the Beach, Finnick, I am going to kill you, right here, right now," Johanna's eyes are so serious that I don't even deliver the punch line... and because that _was_ going to be my answer.

"Hey, Finnick! We know how to make you pretty again!" Katniss calls out for me to join her in the water. Apparently if we soak in the water and scrub our weird fog medicine, scabs will fall off. I wade in the water and watch them start to peel. It's pretty disgusting.

Katniss and Peeta laugh at my face as I try to deal with the gross wounds. I joke around with them and when I think I am done I stand in a victorious pose, "I," I flip my wet hair back, "am flawless." I give a cheesy smile and Katniss comes up and pushes me over back into the water. I sit up and look at her, giving her a playful glare. Then all of us begin to splash one another and I dunk them in the water without mercy.

"I have some news to share!" Beetee announces like we're his children. We all gather around him, some of us sopping wet and drying. Johanna even folds her legs like she's in primary school as our teacher Beetee starts to draw in the sand with a stick, "Now, I've figured out a plan that can get Brutus and Enobaria killed before we all end up dying too," he draws a tree, "This is where lightning strikes every time the clock's rotation reaches twelve," he shows the coil to us, "We'll unravel this and place it in the ocean, electrifying anything in contact with it."

"Wouldn't that eliminate our food source?" I ask. I like the ocean, and I don't want to see it all burnt up. Of course this is the escape plan but if on some off chance it doesn't work out...

"Yes, but that would also mean a food source for Enobaria and Brutus as well. We come to sleep here on the beach at night," he pushes up his glasses, "Why do you think they're not here right now? Isn't it safer than the forest?"

"They're not here because we're here right now."

"Exactly, so they'll come out to the beach when we're gone, and that'll get them fried, especially when the water from the ten o'clock wave has drenched the sand."

"I don't know... how do we know we won't get fried?" Johanna asks.

"We'll be far away, safe." Beetee answers plainly. Almost offended we are questioning his math. He turns to all of us once more, "We're a team, though, so everyone needs to say yes. What do you think?"

Katniss and Peeta agree. Johanna looks at me, "Finnick?"

I sigh, thinking it over one last time, "Why not? What do we have to lose?"

Everyone agrees and we collect what we have and head out to the lightning tree. I basically sweat the entire day as Beetee's assistant, he has me scale the tree, find objects and wrap the coil around various things. Haymitch told me not to question anything he does, but seriously? What does him eating the bark have to do with any part of this plan?

He says, "Eureka," when he finds something that he likes but none of it makes sense to me.

We know that in eleven hours something will happen so we head back to the beach after Beetee is done with his experiments. I give everyone fishing lessons. Johanna looks ridiculous, she refuses a spear or a trident, and instead tries to hack away at the fish with her ax. Peeta and Katniss gather clams and we open them once we have the fish cooking.

Peeta's face lights up, "Look a pearl!" He hands it to Katniss, "For you."

"You know, when you put enough pressure on coal it turns into pearls!" Peeta and Katniss laugh.

I try to figure out the joke but it's just wrong, "No it doesn't."

They turn away and laugh again, must be a private joke. We eat a lovely meal today, bread, water, fish galore. Everyone is laughing, enjoying themselves and it's almost like we're not in the Hunger Games. It's so settling, and I almost sleep, almost... with the warm fish mixing in my stomach.

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><p><strong>Thank for reading, reviews and feedback always appreciated!<strong>


	49. The 75th Hunger Games (part five)

Johanna kicks me a bit and I sneer at her, "I just love waking up to your ugly mug."

We head back up to the tree. The terrain is horrible, and it doesn't matter how many times I trample it down it always regrows and manages to get bushier. Beetee helps me wrap the wire along the tree. It's long and almost like silk. We wrap it up tightly and the genius looks back with a smile. He hands the wire to Johanna and tells her and Katniss to move quickly and drop it in the water.

Katniss starts to protest but Beetee shuts her up, "There's no room for debate right now. Get going now and you'll be safe. Good luck," The girls head off, Katniss is still uneasy about being separated from Peeta but this is the only way to ensure they don't run off without us. Beetee looks at the remainder of our alliance, Peeta and I, "You two are the slowest and the largest. Finnick help Peeta find a safe place and stay there till everything is finished, we'll regroup after all this. But don't go off too far since I'll still need a guard."

I nod and take Peeta up with me. We make it to the safe zone relativity quickly and him and I sit uneasily as the night passes by us. We've both left our female companions. Fear runs through me as all I hear is a large voice boom the word, "MOVE!"

Chaff is running towards us, covered in blood. My eyes shoot open, trying to see through the thick night and I grab my trident. He runs past us and stops a moment as Brutus comes up for an attack. Chaff shoots me a look that says "get out of here" and I grab Peeta, running him through the bushes. Brutus chases after us and cuts off his replacement leg. It's bleeding everywhere since he sliced above the skin.

I am frozen in a mixture of confusion and fear as Brutus's spear whizzes towards Peeta and I. Chaff stops it with his good arm causing blood to spray on all of us as he takes it out. The strong man lunges for Brutus in a heaving mess and slashes his face.

Peeta's emotions are running high as Katniss screams in the distance. Brutus smiles, offering the final blow to an already lifeless Chaff. A cannon sounds and Chaff is dead. I need to take care of Brutus but I am too late to the draw of my trident. In the crazed night I don't see what happens, only the second cannon.

Brutus is dead.

Peeta pulls the knife out of the neck he had just slit and his eyes pierce through me in the dead of night, full of rage, anger and fear. I have never seen that look before. Katniss screams again. Our plan isn't going well, everything is falling apart. I lean Peeta on a tree and strictly tell him to stay put.

"I will get Katniss," I say as I leave him moaning in pain and run off quicker than I have in my life. The clock is ticking. I run past the wire and see it is cut in the center, "Katniss!" I scream, waiting for her to reply, "Johanna!"

I keep running. I don't know what forces me to do it, it must be the adrenaline that has been keeping me alive this whole time. My eyes dilate in the chaos and I find Beetee lying by the tree. He has his knife in hand and he must have accidentally hit the force field. I quickly take the weapon and dig it into his arm.

Blood spurts into my eyes as I throw out the tracker next to him. I go and look for Johanna again only to find Enobaria coming towards me. I get my trident ready.

"Peeta!" It's Katniss! My head turns, she must be close, but in my distraction Enobaria slashes through my chest. I yell in pain, but I have to ignore her.

"Katniss!" I yell, with what little voice I can muster at this point. My feet carry me clumsily in her direction and I watch her shoot an arrow. I assume the target is my head, she must think the alliance is over and I have turned on her. But that's not where it goes, I look confusedly at the arrow as it hits the force field above us.

And then sound leaves my ears. I can't hear anything. Only can I watch the magnificent light bursting from the force field as the lightning hits the tree. I am not in the safe zone. No, my body is muddled to the ground and I feel a painful zap go through me.

But that's all, nothing else except the numbness. I hardly heave or breathe in exertion. A wave washes over me, like someone placing an invisible blanket over on top my body to calm my fears. I can't really turn my head, so I just enjoy the fireworks that the Capitol is blaring to distract the viewers from the mess we made of their arena. I think the blast must have gotten Enobaria too, and Beetee, and... well I our Mockingjay took a direct hit.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading and the continued support!<strong>


	50. Failure - L

At least this makes Peeta or Johanna the winner. But I'm not entirely sure where Johanna was, and I think I heard Peeta screaming nearby at some point, not sitting in the spot I placed him. Snow's right, even the strongest can't prevail I guess.

We tried, but failed. I think of Annie watching the TV right now, staring at my lifeless body at home right now.

"I'm sorry," I wish I could pour my heart out for her in some farewell speech, but this is all my voice can muster. My conscience forces myself to grab the knife at my leg. This will be my last ever action, I pray they have it on camera. I dig the knife into my forearm and my arm starts to twitch, my body senses the attack. I reach my fingers down into the hastily made hole of blood and flesh. I fear I am touching my bone as my hands glaze over a hard material inside the arm – I know I damaged the muscle at least. But it wasn't bone.

I rip the tracker out and try to throw it but can't, so, I just let it roll off of my hand as I lay there. My last effort in this life makes it look like I was killing myself off. So at least when the Capitol sees it they'll think I died my own way.

My mind moves to Peeta, his tracker still in him, how our Mockingjay is lost – our hope is gone. I am trapped in these thoughts for my last final minutes. And then it snaps. My entire mind does. I feel a long and painful sensation run from my brain down my spine. _Annie_. That name consumes my mind and I start to cry. I am leaving her forever.

She will be hurt, and tortured, possibly killed if she's lucky. There's nothing to distract my mind with, nothing to go off and do and ignore the current fears I have. I only see, hear, and say one thing over and over again, _Annie_.

I close my eyes as the tears consume them. My body is being lifted up by a machine and I can't even open my eyes again to see who it is. I don't open them for a while. But I can feel everything: the tubes, the medicine, hundreds of hands. I can't hear the voices, just Annie's name and scream pounding through my head as it keeps in tune to my heart... it muddles out all other sounds.

My breathing steadies and the machines I am hooked up to pump various chemicals into me, sustaining my shitty life. Are they trying to make me pretty before they show my death on TV in front of Annie, or will they make me watch her die first? Maybe I am too unsalvageable to even show on TV, too maimed and grotesque. Or, maybe Haymitch followed through and everyone's safe.

I feel a hand in mine and I force myself to look. Immediately I recognize the washed out face and long greasy hair, "Haymitch," I choke out my voice foreign to me.

"You're a fast healer, Finnick," he sits me up and tries to direct me to a room. I try to steady my fears, I don't understand how I am a "fast healer" when my whole body feels ready to fall off. I head into the room and see Plutarch, the Head Gamemaker.

"Sit Finnick," he smiles. I do and Haymitch joins me, all I can manage is to stare blankly before me, attempting to readjust to the life I have been given once again.

"I knew your daughter was a little rebellious, but I never thought you would be too," I stay quiet and my voice still comes out broken and jagged. I don't feel right in this world. Awake, something is ticking in my head that things are off.

"Rebexna? Ah, my daughter. I didn't know you knew her Finnick... except that one day I bought you for her birthday – but that was long ago and she knows too much for her own good. But this isn't about her, Finnick. Let's talk the escape... I must say you did an excellent job."

"So everyone's okay?" I ask meekly staring into his fat, round eyes.

Haymitch puts his hand on my shoulder, steadying me, "They have Johanna, Peeta and Enobaria," Enobaria was never in on the plan so that doesn't bother me, what bothers me is that they have Johanna – they will torture her and she has information. My breathing quickens and Haymitch's grip gets stronger, "Finnick, They have Annie as well. They arrested her when District Four rebelled."

I try to tear my grip away from his but my body is still too weak. Tears come at a feverish pace and I can't stop them. My mind is losing control with my darker half. _Annie_, now _Annie_, your love is being tortured as well.

Nothing has prepared me for this and I stand up, "No!" I plead, my voice coming out childish and weak, "We have to go back Haymitch, we have to get Annie." I pace around a bit, ringing my hands through my hair. It hurts to lift my arm over my head and I start coughing, like I am choking on my thoughts and tears. Haymitch sits me down again but I can't stop thinking, I can't stop crying for those I've betrayed, "Annie, we have to get Annie and Johanna. Please! Take me to District Four or the Capitol, I have to go there, she can't be alone!"

"We can't get to Four, Finnick. We can't do anything. I will put in a request for her retrieval, but that's all I can do," I look at Plutarch, it sounds sincere but I don't care anymore. I don't care about this world. For once in my life I was at peace, when I thought I might die. Who are they to keep me from that?

"I'm going to kill myself," I moan as I cup my face in my hands. I mean it, and it weighs down on my heart. The room grows darker and I don't feel safe.

"Finnick, don't be stupid. Doing that will just get her killed. As long as you're alive, she'll be alive too."

The doors open loudly and we are all hushed into silence by the sight of Katniss in her nightgown, all beat up from the arena, pointing a medical shot at us.

"You and a syringe against the Capitol huh?" Haymitch looks at her with an unamused glare, clearly he is used to dealing with her, "Drop it. Sit. And eat."

Katniss follows the simple order and sits at the table, her crazy eyes dart around at all of us. I refuse to look at her and continue ringing my hands through my hair. I am ready to die. I am ready for it all to be over.

Haymitch and Plutarch take turns explaining the whole thing to Katniss. I throw some points in where necessary too, like when Katniss says that Johanna was trying to kill her after she cut open her arm – really all we all did was get rid of the trackers. We explain how the bread was a signal for the day. How lots of Districts agreed to keep Katniss alive at all costs, and how that by keeping Peeta alive too, we'd keep her alive. But she has the most difficulty understanding that she is the face of a rebellion, she's a symbol.

"Where's Peeta?" She asks, those crazy eyes settling on Haymitch. No answer. She repeats again in a harsher more desperate voice, "Where's Peeta?"

"In the Capitol."

And then it happens. Katniss pounces on Haymitch and gouges at his eyes. I hold her down and help take her out of the room, she kicks at my chest in self defense and I groan out in pain – I had forgotten the sixty-two new stitches that now decorate that exact spot.

They place her under sedation and I get jealous, because I want to be sedated as well. Haymitch tries to console me, but it's useless and he knows it. Annie is in pain, I know they are hurting her and that makes me hurt. Just the thought of her all alone, being tortured by those animals makes every second I am free to breathe my own breaths – even more unbearable.

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><p><strong>**AN: As you know the next few chapters take place in Mockingjay and we have a very broken/depressed Finnick. The theming is a lot darker from here on out, so you have been warned. :)**

**Thank you for reading!**


	51. District Thirteen - LI

It takes us a while to reach District Thirteen, either because we're dodging the Capitol or because the arena was so far away. In the moments we are flying I find myself questioning what to do... a part of me still wants to end all of this, but the other half is in too much pain to really come up with a plan. The doctors don't really tend to my wounds until we are brought into the dark hole that is District Thirteen.

The explanations begin, about what this place is. But I don't really care, the voices are unimportant to me. My head is still focused on Annie, on finding a way to help her. I refuse to eat, I refuse to speak. When a doctor comes in to discuss my physical therapy it takes him several times to repeat himself enough for me to even know why he's in here. They blame some of it on my concussion, but my wristband reads "mental ward" so it suggests something entirely different.

Every night a nurse walks in and asks if I would like to be sedated for sleep, after my first few nights this far underground, they must have figured out I don't sleep easily. I either wake up crying or screaming or end up with no sleep at all – so this is their solution, to drug me up until I can't respond. For the most part it works, but when I do wake up I feel even more lost and alone than when I started.

There's all this rushing around me, doctors heading in and out, giving orders – but very seldom is it for me. I figure they either don't need me to heal or don't expect me too. Luckily I do get to wander around whenever I feel like it, as long as I stay in the hospital area. Katniss always has people with her in her room, seeing to her, talking with her. I do my share of visiting as well, since she seems pretty at odds with this place as well.

I'm the only one she doesn't bite at or accost. Sometimes I feel like she pities me, but I hold onto her, like a friend. We don't know much about each other but we do understand what pain is... and we do understand what it feels like to lose the one person we've been aiming to protect.

"I wanted to go back, for Johanna and Peeta, but I couldn't move. Peeta doesn't know much so he won't be bothered with, they'll figure that out right away. But Johanna will have it rough, she's always been rebellious. They're going to use Peeta just like bait to get to you."

Katniss stares into the ceiling, and her next words sting like daggers, "Like they're doing for Annie, Finnick?"

To have her say it, to hear it from her mouth makes it so much worse. My eyes start to twitch and I can hear my voice losing itself. I ring my hands in a familiar manner in an attempt to calm myself but it usually never works, "I wish she was dead. I wish I was dead too. I wish we were all just dead – then everything would be fine."

I wait for Katniss' reply scolding me like the doctors do for my "bad" idea, but there is no response. And that scares me more. It terrifies me that she agrees with me. So I leave and head back to my room, to my own prison.

My little white square, just like a sugar cube. There are three chairs set up that mostly doctors use when they're talking to me. I have a sink, but I never use it. Above the sink are cabinets filled with various medications that are locked off from me. Across from the bed is an electronic machine that reads different notes, instructions, etc from doctors and nurses. Every now and again it will beep and remind me to eat or something of the like.

It's such an odd world down here, so different from my District Four. I move over to the mirror near the sink and stare at myself for the first time since the arena. Now I know why no one has cared to visit me.

Everything about me screams a broken man. My face is scarred and bruised in all sorts of shades. When I move the hospital gown reveals my chest and the long, hideous scar that runs across it. Due to my lack of care and nutrition my body has lost some of its muscle mass and I seem smaller and weak. I am not the Finnick Odair on the TV, nor one that can be salvaged by a prep team any longer. No, I am just an average looking person now, a very beaten up one at that. The image makes my sad, upset and I do the only thing I've done since I've come out of that arena – I start to cry again. This is what the Capitol wanted me to be: weak and broken.

I move my hands up to my face and poke at my pale skin, they even changed my eyes. My sea green eyes... even they look gray in the midst of it all. The Capitol has taken everything from me and I have nothing left.

Something twitches in my mind. And I fill with the despair I can never handle mentally. Anger couples it and I take my fist, punching it into the glass and letting it shatter and fall to my feet. My hand starts to bleed but I don't stop, something else runs in my mind as I grab the shiny glass. There's an odd, distorted reflection staring back at me. A selfish man, a liar, a coward.

I see a monster. Rage boils in me and I take the glass, trying to kill the monster that now threatens to eat at me. It eats at my hands, and I start there, taking the sharp edges and running it smoothly along my wrist. My eyes steady as I watch a new, brighter red blood pool up and spill out of the cut. It doesn't feel like anything, there's absolutely no satisfaction and I am left to assume the monster is still there.

But its not like killing a mutt, there's no urgency in the situation. I see a monster, sure, but one that needs to be killed slowly and destroyed one piece at a time. Carefully and gently, I cut another fine line across my skin. More hands appear and now it becomes urgent, I hastily take the glass and cut into my skin faster and faster, deeper and deeper as more enemies appear to stop me.

The glass is ripped from my hands and I am thrown on to a bed while they suppress my body by a bar and begin bandaging up my sliced skin. _Why are they helping the monster_? _Why are they trying to save what isn't salvageable_? I scream at them, not recognizing any faces and only seeing enemies before me. The tears continue to fall and I continue to thrash around and reopen the wounds... because _I want to die_. _ I want to die_._ I want to die_.

There's a tickling in my wrist and the world starts to disappear from me, the bastards have subdued me with some drug – some numbing drug. All of it is drifting from me, even my mind, right into a world of darkness where no pain follows. It feels good, partially, because I can't think straight at the moment. And partially because it halts the flow of my thoughts for good.

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><p>Slowly the world shifts from blackness to grayness, to fuzziness. I blink to make out a little girl sitting in the chairs across from the bed. She has blond hair in braids that remind me of Katniss. That is, if Katniss could ever look like an angel.<p>

I attempt to sit up, but I find myself strapped to the bed. There are straps on my wrists, which are bandaged, and my forearm which prevents movement. I notice the bar on my chest comes with a towel underneath it, so when I do thrash around I don't mess with the stitching. There's another one on my hips that really bothers me, since it lays so heavily on my bladder. In a moment all the fuzziness will be completely gone and I will want to die again, I guess it's smart of them to tie me up.

The little girl, hasn't noticed me waking yet. She continues to scribble on a sheet and erase. Maybe she wants my autograph. A tall woman, with a hardened face walks in.

"Good morning, Mr. Odair," She says this as she fixes some of the tubes in my arms. Then she writes things on a piece of paper only to transfer it onto the electronic board. My mind is a typhoon of things at the moment and I don't know which feelings to follow. Keeping me locked up like this isn't helping. I need to move around, find distraction, do something.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I say, in as much of a sane voice I can muster. I bat my eyelashes as she comes over to lean by me, smiling almost at my request. It annoys me.

"I don't think so... " She pats on my stomach gently, and spreads out my hospital smock, like a mother might to tuck their child in. The only difference is I am no child and instead a very angry victor of the Hunger Games. Her voice is sweet though, and it almost coaxes me into listening, "If you need to do your business we can leave and you can do so in the pan beneath you."

I blush and immediately feel embarrassed as a new wave of hopelessness falls over me. They don't even trust me enough to go to the bathroom on my own. Maybe I don't want to kill myself anymore. These thoughts and feelings flash so quickly, I can hardly move, but all of a sudden this metal pan beneath me is feeling very uncomfortable.

"Well, what about my hands? I would like to eat some food," I try again, acting as charming as I can.

"Oh, you'd like to eat now? That's good, you need the strength, but don't worry I can hand feed you, She dodges the plea again, there's a faint beeping in another room and she turns to me, "I'll be right back," the doctor looks at the little girl now observing me completely, "Primrose, finish your homework."

When she leaves the little girl's eyes peek out at me, quietly and nervously she raises the book higher, hiding her face from me. It makes me laugh, she seems pretty harmless.

"What are you writing?" I ask. The little girl looks at me suspiciously, like the crazy is just an act I am putting on. In reality, the crazy, just comes to taunt me from time to time...

"I'm doing a report for school on medical treatments," she puts down her pencil, "my mom is a head nurse here, and I want to be one too. Soon," she smiles and takes the paper, "Did you want to proof-read it?"

She holds it in front of me and I feel ashamed since I can't read very well. The words and letters just jumble on the page and tangle with each other. They're very long words too. Short passages I can manage... but medical terms? I draw a blank and instead say nothing as I observe the long paragraphs.

"Could you read it aloud? I want to hear what it sounds like from another person," I wonder if Snow ever knew my reading skills weren't good. He never put particularly difficult words in his letters.

I take a deep breath, what do I have to lose? I am already at the utter most bottom ring of my life, "A medical re-" I stumble, already starting to sweat and clenching my fists in response, "ree... reess..." I hiss the "s" and try to figure out the rest, "resaarsh," I smile hoping it is correct.

"Research," she looks back at me with no surprise or humor to be found in her face. I want to slap myself, I probably know what all these words mean, I've probably used them all before – so why is it so difficult to read them?

I start again, "A medical research, by Primrose Everdeen... Everdeen?"

She giggles, "Yes, Katniss is my sister," she looks in my eyes and then jumps up with a nervous smile, "Oh! Thank you for saving her for me. You're quite the gentleman."

"So you're the little girl she volunteered for?" I smile at her now that I know just who she belongs to. I would volunteer for her too, she reminds me of Annie, pure and innocent... people not built for Games like those. That's what Katniss and I do, protect the pure as we, ourselves, delve deeper into our own darkness. Primrose nods quietly. And I look at the sheet once more, wondering if I should change the subject again myself.

"Through my research, I have dis – cov – er – ed..."

"Discovered."

"I knew that," I nervously retort, "Through my research, I have discovered that the humane,"

"Human."

I start to get frustrated as I begin the sentence for a third time,"Through my research, I have discovered that the human self-..." I stop. What the hell is this monster of a word? "Con – sea -oos," Primrose looks at me strangely and I know I am far off from the sound of this word.

"Finnick, do you recall ever hitting your head in the arena?" _Is she making fun of me_?

"No, not particularly," I shrug and gaze down at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact anymore. This little girl is smarter than I'll ever be.

"I thought maybe you had a concussion, since you don't seem to be pronouncing these words correctly. If that's the case then I'll tell my mom and we won't stress you mentally for a few weeks, but we can do some tests and see and -"

"I haven't learned to read, I stopped when I was nine," I interject with my jaw still clenched. It's embarrassing to be twenty-four years old and unable to read a young girl's homework assignment. I bet even Enobaria can read.

Primrose looks at me, not with pity or anything, but she looks at me in some gentle manner as she takes my hand, "I wasn't trying to make fun of you, I just thought wrong, Finnick," she gets red in her cheeks as she notices the scars on my fingers and hands from the glass incident – reminding her that I'm not the most sane person in the world, "I would help you learn if you wanted too."

"What? Learn to read?" It hardly seems important now, in the midst of everything.

"Only if you were up for it," she just whispers to me, "Don't tell anyone but I think reading is loads of fun and a guy like you would probably really like it."

I laugh at her, "You're nothing like Katniss, you know that?"

She smiles back at me, Katniss is this rough, independent girl but Primrose is quiet and demure. Her hands brush back her hair, "You know, I just think that a guy with such a vast vocabulary, who writes such lovely poetry, should be able to actually read what he says."

Jokingly I sigh, "When do we begin?"

"Primrose? Why are you pestering, Mr. Odair?" Mrs. Everdeen walks in on the scene of her daughter leaning over my bed, interacting with a patient,"Why don't you go back to the room and do your homework there?"

"She wasn't bothering me."

"I'm helping him learn to rea-"

"She was helping me sort things out about the Games" I nod to her, "smart girl."

"Yep, that's it mom," Primrose smiles.

"Alright, but get your things Prim, I need to heat this up for Mr. Odair and then you and I need to check on Katniss."

"How is she?" I ask, I really do wonder sometimes... is she as messed up as I am? As hopeless?

"She's doing better, Mr. Odair," she moves to place something on my side table, "I really do appreciate everything you did for her in that arena. I don't pretend to understand it all, but as a mother it means a great lot to me."

Mrs. Everdeen leaves a moment and Primrose starts up again, "I think you could be an author someday, Finnick. Writing books, I'd read anything you wrote."

"Primrose!" The District Twelve mother yells from another room. She waves goodbye and I nod off to her taking a look down at my wrists. What was that? For a few minutes I was me, the regular me. Just like Annie, who will return for a few moments only to disappear again. Are her and I the same now? Wait, _Annie_. Her name triggers a head ache and I start sweating feverishly.

Suddenly these restraints hurt too much, and they constrict me. They're like snakes trying to suffocate me. _Snow looks like a snake_. Snow is trying to suffocate me. I try slamming my head on the back of the headboard, to escape, to stop the madman before he kills me.

"Leave me!" I yell at the snakes and the darkness, my entire body starts shaking. A doctor told me what this was, a _mental attack_, where I fight with myself. Where my body and things I usually control turn on me and refuse my orders.

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><p><strong>Feedback appreciated! :)<strong>


	52. Dulling the Pain - LII

But I don't receive any morphling this time. Just another drug. One that phases out the world, but doesn't bring the same sweet peace that morphling does. I wake up, worried and breathing heavily to the blond hair again. She smiles at me, not making anything of my strange actions.

"Did you have a nice rest Finnick? I bet you were dreaming of home," She's wearing a different outfit now, not what the normal residents wear, something I've noticed the nurses wear. She goes about the room fixing things here and there, then she sits next to me, "I begged President Coin to let me work on becoming a nurse. It was a lot of work, but everyone liked my report. How are you feeling?"

I rub my head and croak out the words, "I've been better... I wish I was dreaming of District Four..."

"Is it a nice place? I've only seen it on the TV during Reapings," she stares at me like I'm the only person who matters right now, "Why don't you tell me about District Four?"

"It's a gorgeous place, tall trees, vast beaches of sand. The air is always warm, sometimes sticky," I let out a chuckle, "Sometimes the people don't even bother with many clothes. The water though, that is the best part. Being able to run into it, swim with the creatures below – though they taste even better than they look."

She laughs, "It sounds so much better than Twelve. Where I'm from it's cold and dark, we have these heavy trees and everything is layered in coal dust."

"I remember," and I do, the memories come back to me, "I saw it on my Victory Tour."

"What do you do for fun in District Four? In Twelve we dance and tell stories."

I look up to the ceiling trying to place my life back into specific areas, "In Four we... well, we sing a lot. We drink a lot too, the sailors and fishermen are always at the tavern. Of course we go swimming too, but it's a lot of linking arms and singing."

Prim nods to my words, "My sister loves to sing."

"I remember, I remember her doing that for the girl from District Eleven. But we don't sing like that, it's more like chants and verses that everyone speaks out together in something like a harmony," a few moments in particular stand out to me, "actually I'm not sure you can even call it singing to tell you the truth, sometimes it's just happy yelling."

"What's your favorite song then?"

My brow creases as I try to remember the words. The songs my mother used to sing are very different from the songs I'd sing at the tavern when some of the other victors decided to venture outside. But I do recall one night in particular, where I ate with Annie's family and sang happy songs that made everything seem fine.

Then I find them, locked away in some old box of my mind I find the song and it comes out of my hoarse voice like it would any fisherman's, "_By the storm-torn shoreline a woman is standing_,_ the spray strung like jewels in her hair_._ And the sea tore the rocks near the desolate landing as though it had known she stood there_. _But she has come down to condemn that wild ocean_,_ for the murderous loss of her man_. _His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning_, _and it's feared she's gone down with all hands_."

Prim watches me carefully as I sing the next verse as best I can, "_Oh and white were the wave-caps_, _and wild was their parting_._ So fierce was the warring of love_, _but she prayed to the gods_, _both of men and of sailors_, _not to cast their cruel nets o'er her love_. _What force leads a man to a life filled with danger_,_ high on seas or a mile underground_?_ It's when need is his master_,_ and poverty's no stranger_, _and there's no other work to be found_."

She's silent once I finish, it's not the happiest song but it's one no one really forgets. Wives are always sad and worried during their husbands departure on the seas. I wait for her to respond and she must sense this because her voice comes out quiet, "The last few lines are a lot like what we say in Twelve... the only reason men go into the mines is because their families are starving back up top."

I nod, "Yep, same in Four. So many drown or die of disease out on the water... but there's no alternative for young men who work, you know?"

We both wait a few moments for the song to settle, "Well hey, I know what might cheer you up... we can practice reading?" She looks off for a moment, "I don't know what's happening in your head and I don't think I ever could, but it might be nice to get everything off your mind and get lost in someone else's story for once?"

She almost glows in her white uniform when its reflecting the light and I almost don't think she's real. But the drugs are playing with my hormones and my emotions right now and I can't help but let the memories of District Four make me cry. She stands up, to get help or something, and I try to catch her arm to prevent her but my restraints don't allow it, "No!" My voice is more desperate than I intend, "No, I'm not hurt or upset... I'm just emotional," I don't want her to leave me alone, "Stay with me, let's read."

Prim's face lights up at that (maybe I convinced her) and she goes into her bag for some papers. She's not like the others, who pretend my case is one that needs time to solve, or one that can be handled on my own – she knows that all I need is distraction.

I would help her pull a chair up, but seeing as how I'm strapped in, this is a bit impossible. She sits next to me and then presses some button on the bed that raises me up. With a smile she stacks the papers and looks through them again, "Right! I was thinking maybe we could start with one of my favorite authors, Shakespeare! I know he might not seem like a beginners level, but I figure you'll enjoy it more than children stories. "

"Who? What?"

"Oh, he lived a _long _time ago, but his plays and poems are still pretty famous. We'll focus on articulation and comprehension today. You already know most of the words, so I think it's important just to work on matching sounds to letters. You know the alphabet already, right?"

"Sure, a, b, c, d, e, f -"

"That's good. Do you know spelling?"

"Honestly it was never my strong suit, but sometimes I can work it out."

She beams, "Great, I'll bring some other materials for tomorrow. I have all day, Finnick."

"Alright, teacher Primrose!" I playfully joke.

"We'll start here," she points to a line and holds it so we can both see it.

I follow her finger and read, "Oh Miss-ter-ess mine, where are you roaming?"

"Mistress," She smiles, encouraging me to read on. I follow her finger as it points to the letters and I formulate the words.

"Oh, stay and hear; your true love's coming," A whole line down, maybe this is easier than I thought.

"Finnick! That's perfect!" She pats my wrist gently and I am actually filled with pride.

"That can sing both high and low. Treep no further, pretty sh-wee-thing." I stare at the words and try them again, but fail to get them right on my tongue from the letters. It is so much easier to listen to someone, and of course the minute Prim tells me the words I always understand.

"Trip and sweeting. It's okay though, that was a hard one," She places her hand on the page and I am a little less enthusiastic.

"Your-nee-yas end in lovers meeting," I look at Prim, she montions for me to try one more time with that particular line, "Jour-ne-ys end in lovers meeting?" She nods happily and pushes me to continue, "What's to come is still un-swa-ure..." Before she even says a thing I fix myself, "unsure. In deelaey there lees knot plenty."

"In delay there lies not plenty," She reads perfectly and rather eloquently. I repeat the sentence back to her and watch the words as they pass in the poem. We're nearly done and she asks me to finish the poem.

"Then, come kiss me, sweet and twa-en-tey, You-," I try to formulate the "th" sound that gives me trouble on the pages, "tha's a stuff will not en-doo-re." I scrunch my nose at the sentence and wait for Prim to correct me.

"Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty, youth's a stuff will not endure. Can you pronounce 'youth' again while reading it, Finnick? Look at how it is written 'YOU' and the "th". You make the sound everyday. I know it looks weird on the paper, try it though," she pronounces and enunciates the stark "th" sound and I try to rack it in my brain and connect the sound to the letter formation, "Now, did you understand the reading?"

"To be honest, I wasn't paying attention," I read through it again.

_Oh Mistress mine, where are you roaming? _Well the woman, or mistress that this man loves is off, away from him. _Oh, stay and hear; your true love's coming. _He wants the girl to wait for him, or for her to come back to him. _That can sing both high and low. Trip no further, pretty sweeting._ I ask Prim about these lines. She explains that is common language for the time it was written. With her translation she figures it could mean the lover has a beautiful voice, or it is figurative. I, personally, think it means that even though they've had good times and bad, it's no problem for their love._ Journeys end in lovers meeting. _With the journey they've taken separately each ends when they finally meet together, all so they can make a new one together. _What's to come is still unsure. In delay there lies not plenty. _Whatever comes from their new journey, they really don't know. But there's no time to waste and they have to start their journey together soon. _ Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty, youth's a stuff will not endure. _Then they should come and kiss now, until they grow old. Loving each other for the time they still have together.

Prim looks at me, and she suddenly seems worried. I am worried too, but for an entirely other reason. The poem is beautiful and once I fully understand it, it reminds me of Annie and I. She was lost, I am lost, we are trying to find each other again... and are we running out of time. A quarter of our lives could be gone by now, and we're separated. _Separated_. The word makes me feel lonely. I start to get hysterical again, thinking of all the things our lives have missed already. The wedding I once promised her, the idea of having children together. My breathing increases and I can't stop the emotion as it shakes through me.

Large men in nurse uniforms come in as I go into a violent fit in my bed. They direct Prim out of the room and she has a sorry look on her face. I can still hear her as she exits, "I won't bring love poems next time, I wasn't thinking, mom..." That's all I can hear as the large men put the drugs into my body again. Darkness. So much of it to explore, but so little time. I wonder how often we see it... we close our eyes so often to shut out the light, but, do we ever keep them closed long enough to venture into the darkness? To see what worlds lie beyond our eyes?

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><p><strong>Just some Prim and Finnick fluff! :) I figured he had to be doing something during his time in Thirteen... and I just love the idea of him and Prim being friends.<strong>

**Thanks for reading!**


	53. Distractions - LIII

**These chapters are taking longer and longer to rewrite (but oh no we're getting close to the end)!**

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><p>When I am once more dragged out of the darkness, I awake to a little blond head and a large man dressed all in white. I roll my head to side to side, which proves difficult. My body is sore, not from my fit entirely, more from these restraints and being confined to the bed for what must now be a few weeks.<p>

Prim reads my mind as she moves towards me, "We're going to go on a little walk today Finnick," she awaits for a response for me but I can't find one.

The man comes over and unlocks the restraints and for the first time I notice the bandages on my wrists are gone... all that remains in its place is a nasty looking scar that is still scabbing over. But I am thankful to have this opportunity to move, to stretch my body. I start with my toes and move up, rolling around my calves and then pulling out my thighs. All signs of the arena are virtually gone, no more small bruises and the scars are now in the healing process. Basically my body is telling me it's time to move on, but my head just doesn't want to jump on that bandwagon.

I put my foot on the ground and move through my sugar cube, the tiles are cold so Prim offers me a pair of slippers. As I move around I continue to stretch until she makes it clear there is more to today than just taking off my restraints.

"Where would you like to go first?"

I look at her reluctantly with a smile pressed to my lips, "The bathroom."

She permits me to head to the bathroom on my own, but the guard follows. He seems to be a reminder that I can't have any break downs today. I've notice all the mirrors and reflective surfaces for the most part have been taken out of my room.

Luckily, I just need to take a piss, so it's not too embarrassing to do anything in front of this man. I guess I had been releasing my bowels and doing the same exact thing in my bed where nurses had to deal with it... but it still feels more awkward now, probably because I'm fully conscience about it now.

They have me in a regular pair of underwear and I drop them to the ground as I go about my business, I now have the opportunity to see that the little red marks that used to dot my nether regions are now nonexistent. Maybe I've been given medication here for the small welts, but regardless I'm glad they're gone – a piece of my old Capitol life that I no longer have to deal with.

Prim takes my hand when I finish and something registers as odd as she leads me around the hospital. The Games have obviously stunted my growth in more ways than one and now it seems even Prim is older than me. Ten years have turned me into a lunatic and her into a maturing, wonderful woman.

We walk slowly around the hospital,getting my legs used to my weight again, it's not a very big area. There's a little waiting room, with old books where I find Beetee sitting. I walk over to him and Prim helps sit me down since I still feel off balance. The guard is still looming over us but he seems more relaxed.

"Feeling better, Finnick?" He asks. He looks more hurt then anyone, though it shouldn't surprise anyone, one would assume he's the most fragile of us. Yet he seems perfectly capable of anything even if he is confined to a wheel chair.

I start feeling a little anxious as he peers towards me through his glasses, and I don't know why but I start tapping my fingers on my legs. Bouncing my attention to various objects in the room that is suddenly feeling really cold in light of everything. My foot starts this unrelenting tap as well, and no matter what mental signals I send my legs they won't stop bouncing.

Prim reaches over and holds my hand, Beetee tries not to trigger anything by staying silent. They're both trying to keep me calm – keep me out of that bed they're sure to throw me in if I act up. I try to force my breath lower as I choke out a, "good," in response to Beetee's question.

My hand goes my mouth and I start chewing on a nail. I'm tense and trying to fall back into the normal Finnick that he knows. It's more embarrassing breaking down in front of someone who knows what level you're usually at, "What are you doing Beetee? Healing too?"

"I've been helping President Coin, developing things to help our people against the Capitol. I can't walk much but I use my mind and contribute the best I can," he eyes me gently and I find it remarkable how relaxed he is with District Thirteen and everything that happened after the Quell.

"I learned to read," I strain out, sounding like a child, failing to outdo an older sibling by a comic amount. But really, _what have I done_? Sit in bed, cry, try to kill myself, and cry. Everyone thinks I am a lost cause, probably even Beetee.

"Keep getting better Finnick," he pushes on one of his wheels, "President Coin is doing an announcement today, why don't you walk with me?" We start off down the hall, further than I've ever been allowed to go. Beetee presses something into my hands, a small length of rope, "Forgive me, but I've seen you tying knots before – mostly at various Hunger Games. I made this bet, you see, with someone in Command – I claimed that you could make half a million knots on that rope. Do you think you can do it? It's not much, just you carrying it around and making knots whenever you feel like it."

My twitching and fidgeting stops when we enter into the elevator, "I can do it," my voice is still quiet but it gets drowned out anyways by the screeching of the machine. I take the new rope and begin looping it around into tight stretches and loose ones. A smile cracks through my lips, "There, look at that Prim," I show her the knot, "It once took your sister thirty minutes to do that."

Beetee pushes away after bidding me a farewell and I am escorted to stand near some of the other hospital patients. I've never met this "President Coin" nor do I have any clue why we're all gathered. My hands continue knotting the rope into lengths as Katniss comes over to stand near me.

"Hey, Finnick," I know she says my voice but I'm still not able to turn my attention to her. She starts again, this time bumping into me and releasing me from whatever other world was holding me, "Finnick!"

"Oh," my voice comes out desperate as I grab her arm, glad to see someone looking so familiar amongst this new sea of faces, "I'm glad to see you, Katniss."

She gives me a light smile, "I told President Coin to put all the old victors on the list of those who would be immune from indictment."

My heart starts racing as she mentions the words. Yes, Annie is in the Capitol. This will help her. I've thought about it and its been plaguing my mind, that I might not be able to defend what Annie says or does without me, I turn back to Katniss, "That's a relief, I've been wondering about Annie... thank you, Katniss."

The girl slinks off with her hair bouncing behind her, I bite into my lip as I start a new knot. New location. Freedom. Talks about real world things. All these situations are being thrown into my face and I'm not being eased back into reality – I'm diving right in. Maybe they have a use for me all of a sudden.

This woman begins speaking, gray, sleek hair and a firm voice, "Katniss Everdeen has agreed to be our Mockingjay under the condition that the victors being held in the Capitol will be immune from any of their crimes against our cause. This includes, Peeta Mellark, Johanna Mason, and Annie Cresta."

I immediately freeze upon the mention of her name and it takes several minutes for me to convince myself it's a good thing she was alluded to. A different doctor, not Prim, takes me back upstairs with some of the other patients. I don't listen to the rest of the speech, instead I continue on the knots and fill my head with numbers, five knots, seven knots, twenty-five knots, and so on.

As the next few days wear on, I am weaned off of medications and more of my bandages come off – someone even comes in to pick at my old stitches. Now that my body has healed itself I am free to walk around and start working on clearing my head – building myself back up.

"Finnick," my name is said and I look up, this time trying to place the time and my location. This knot exercise has done it's job, keeping me from real world problems and instead trapping me in a world where continually knotting something is helpful. The voice comes closer, "Finnick," a hand is thrown my way, "My name is Fulvia Cardew and I'm helping win the media war we have against the Capitol in riling up the Districts."

I am hesitant at first, to shake the outstretched fingers, but I place down my rope and do shake it. Maybe I am interesting all of a sudden, useful even? Why else would someone who is clearly not from Thirteen be seeking me?

"Why don't you come with me, there's a lot we can do to win this and I feel that utilizing you and Katniss will really help," she stands me up and walks me alongside her, "You see we're just downstairs, filming a promotional video of Katniss. I think you'd be of assistance in showing her how to appear well on screen and maybe if you're up for it you can film for us as well."

I'm in the elevator again but this time everything passes by in a much more dazed rate. It's as if I'm seeing things only after they've been there for a few moments, nothing is fresh. This is probably due to the replacement drug, the one that is supposed to help me kick my Morphling addiction – though this stuff is just as nice sometimes.

We pass through the set and no one makes a big deal about me being there, they run past me with outfits, makeup, and orders. No one pulls me aside to dress me or put me in a new outfit, I'm really just here to watch. Maybe this is another medication they're trying, forcing me to see other people who have their lives together. I take the rope again and wrap it around my fingers as I try to stay out of the way. But everything is still so fuzzy that I end up knocking into things here and there and having to stare at others a few moments before I can register their distance from me.

"We fight, we dare," a voice comes in over a microphone, "we end this hunger for justice!"

It's not very convincing, the words seem timid amid their message. Several people bicker but I can't really focus on the conversation until Katniss passes by me. I stop her with a smile, she's one of the only faces I like to see down here, "Katniss, you're filming these videos?"

"Yeah," she looks up to me a moment, trying to place her words, "I'm not really good at it."

I laugh, "Katniss they'll love you no matter what. They'll either want to kiss you, kill you, or be you."

Someone walks over to pull her back onto the set but I can catch her smile as she moves away. Another person offers me a chair and I sit in it, probably not in the most proper way since I'm still in my patient outfit but I could care less.

It takes several hours and I must have been deemed useless again since no one ever asked for my opinions. Though, judging by Haymitch and Katniss' blowup I'm apparently not the only one messing up. Katniss walks away with a few final remarks to her old mentor only to stop over by me. She invites me to lunch and since I'd rather go without asking than be told "no" I follow her upstairs.

Together, we enter the dining hall, a place I haven't yet visited. Several people mill about and get their food. Katniss grabs her tray and mine without even waiting for my actions. We join her cousin Gale at one of the tables.

"How did the filming go?" The dark haired boy turns to Katniss as he picks at his meal.

She pokes at the food just as much as he does, "I don't want to talk about it."

"So," he prods for more out of the girl, "what should we talk about?"

Katniss shrugs, she looks perfectly normal with all the makeup still piled on. She stuffs something gooey into her mouth and turns to me, "How have you been doing, Finnick?"

I take a moment to place the words, "I'm fine," I look away and try to find my District Four humor that will help make all of this easier, "I've just been thinking about Annie and Johanna... even some of the other victors who might still be in the Districts. I wish," my voice falters and I try to pick it up again, "I wish I could just go out, fight, give myself up, whatever it might take to end all of this."

The two District Twelve natives take turns casting glances at me, it's like they're communicating telepathically. Katniss responds first, "I know how you feel. These people don't know what it's like to play mental games... sometimes the easiest thing to do _is_ to give up. But we have to stay strong, Finnick," she quickly adds something in that must be to convince herself of her own words, "for Annie and Peeta."

She's right. About everything, though I'm someone who has known this for little less than half my life already. Just like Beetee, Katniss is calm and collected, so much better than I am. I guess being the Mockingjay means she doesn't have us much time to heal. And really, _I'm_ no Mockingjay – I'm practically the face of the Capitol.

"We haven't met," Gale holds out his hand to me, it's stiff, but I can tell in his eyes he feels sorry for me. Honestly one of the best things about this hospital gown might be that it demands sympathy. I take his hand and shake it, though my grip isn't as steady as his, "I'm Gale Hawthorne."

"Finnick Odair."

"You're from District 4? They're pretty valuable in the rebellion, lot of people who are fighting pretty strongly – and they were the first to rebel," he nods over to Katniss, "This girl says a lot of good things about you... and a lot of interesting things."

I turn to Katniss, suddenly finding the whole conversation humorous, "Oh yeah? What types of _interesting_ things?"

He shakes his head, "I don't pretend to understand... something about sugar cubes?"

Katniss shakes her head trying not to grin, I smile back at her. It's nice to know that we have some inside jokes of our own to fall back on. The Girl on Fire turns her attention back to me, "Gale, tell him about what the people in the Command are planning."

"Oh, well, it won't happen for a long time... but we're thinking when the Districts are all won or close to it we'd go into the Capitol and rescue the victors. Thought you might like to know," his wrist starts to beep, "They want all of us in Command."

"All of us?" Katniss is obviously confused since I am the outlier to this plan.

"Yeah," he nods over to me as I pick up my rope, "It says all of us."

"I'll wait here until he's done eating," she waves her cousin off like it's nothing of importance and waits for me to finish the soup I've barely touched. It has fish in it, but none that District Four would ever take credit for catching – it's so horrible we wouldn't even feed it to the livestock.

It feels weird eating in silence so I try to pick up conversation again, "Your cousin is pretty nice."

Her eyes furrow as a grin lightens on her face, "My cousin?" At the mere thought of something so obscure she lets out a laugh, "Finnick, the cameras made that up since I was supposed to be in love with Peeta... and having that _man_ as my _friend_ would come out as suspicious."

"So you love him?"

"I'm not even thinking about it right now, there are more important things," she looks at my bowl, "You done?"

"Sure."

With that the two of us head off to command my first time being in the special part of Thirteen. Tall, muscular men stand around intermingling with several people who must be from the Capitol due to their genetically altered features. The lady with the gray hair stands with Plutarch and Haymitch as does the woman who came to see me about Katniss' promotional video.

When Katniss enters the room she seems to silence it and the meeting moves to a start. They're arguing about her filming ability once more, trying to figure out why she's so horrible. Then it turns into a game almost, to figure out what moments in particular made us feel connected to Katniss or riled up.

I speak up and seem to startle everyone, maybe they think I'm going to babble out some suicidal threat again. But I don't, I know when Katniss made me feel for her. When Peeta hit the force field, when she cried for Prim like I do for Annie. I mention a different instance though, "When Katniss took Mags on her shoulders as the fog was attacking us. I really appreciated that and could never think of the words to explain how she made me felt that day."

Haymitch stares over at me, probably trying to calculate where I am on the mental scale. Someone writes down my contribution and feel accomplished, as if I really added something. And it is apparently true because as the meeting wears on I get asked to do a new propo, a "We Remember" styled one where I talk about tributes I knew or witnessed, fallen victors. It seems easy enough and actually giving me things to look forward to seem to being doing wonders in distracting me.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reviewing and continuing to follow, I appreciate it!<strong>


	54. Recovery - LIV

The days wear on and I really do feel as if I'm healing. My body is more active, more energetic. My spirits are heightened. Even my reading skills have improved, Prim visits me frequently and offers to read with me and even escorts me around – though she never refers to it as escorting. The rope Beetee gave me is also helping, I must be a quarter of the way done with the knots by now. Due in part because I still don't sleep well at night and end up awake and on the edge of my bed tying things till I pass out.

Prim has a test in the school today, there aren't many children but she says they're all pretty good friends with one another. When she leaves I get bored in the hospital and figure I'd like to walk around by myself now, possibly go see Beetee. I check in with the lady at the front desk before I leave, she always greets me with a huge smile. I'm one of the only patients who can even walk around so I've become the most familiar face around here.

"Oh, of course," she has bright orange hair, the kind people in the Capitol would pay millions for. She's plump and not very pretty but she's very nice, "Make sure you have your rope with you like the doctors prefer," She smiles handing me some rope. This woman always offers me some before I head out, even though the piece from Beetee has never left my hand.

"I've got it already," I nod as I head off. I've explored most of District 13 now, the underground part at least. There's the hospital, the school where sometimes I wait for Prim, even though she spends most of her time in the hospital. There's the dining hall and several other conference rooms. I'm not sure which hallway I'm in now, they all start to feel the same after a while but as I make my way further down the bright white halls I see a sign on a peculiar metal door. _Command._

I knock on the door out of curiosity, I've been in the room before... haven't I? A middle-aged man presses the door open and looks me over, "I don't think you belong here, we can have an escort take you back," He starts to motion to someone as I spot Haymitch at the table.

"Haymitch!" I smile, waving into the room as he looks up at me, confused as I duck under the man and enter the room. Plutarch is there and offers me the same glance and I feel that I'm reading the room wrong. That maybe they don't want me to be here, but so many thoughts are conflicting at the moment I can't place anyone in particular at the moment.

"Finnick, I don't think you should be here," he says this calmly as his eyes look to two large men lurking in the corners.

"No, I am. They said I could walk around," my voice changes and yet again I can't remove it from the powerless, boyish desperation.

The gray haired woman walks over to greet me, she smiles at me and tries to remove the tension from the scene, "Nice to meet you Finnick Odair, I've heard a lot about you and what you've done and I think we can at least have a formal introduction together," we shake hands and she starts again, "I am President Coin, if you ever need anything you shouldn't hesitate to ask."

"What is it you have there Finnick?" Haymitch points to me, gently. I look up, starting to get worried and anxious as I wrap my hands around the rope.

"Oh, Beetee got it for me," I run it through my hands, "It's like a therapy thing... to distract me?" I'm not sure why this comes out as a question but I can do nothing to stop it.

"You ready Boggs? If we want to get to District Eight and get the shots we need we'll have to leave now. Katniss is still getting ready to board," Gale walks in adjusting some fancy uniform and gun as he nods to the man who stopped me before.

Everyone's off doing things, and I want to do something useful for a change too, "Don't leave without me," I smile over at Gale, "I'm coming too!"

"Absolutely not, Finnick," Haymitch says in his usual voice, standing up and trying to get me to sit down, "you are nowhere near ready for something like this." He shakes his head as I lower my face in a disappointed manner, "And your little puppy face doesn't work when it looks like you've just escaped the mental ward." He doesn't finish his statement, but I know he wants to throw in there that I already _have_ escaped the mental ward.

I start getting upset and though I've had better luck with controlling my emotions I still can't crack it completely just yet. So, instead I follow my instincts and dart out of the room, heading up several flights of stairs to the outer airs of District Thirteen. Fresh air hits me and it feels amazing, I sense people following me as I make my way to a hovercraft where I spot the tell-tale braid of Katniss – she will be on my side.

"Katniss! They're not letting me go with you guys!" I start to instinctively tie the knots again, not even counting them. I sound desperate in my plea as Gale and Boggs move past me leaving two escorts who must be waiting for me to finish.

The Mockingjay slaps her face, in a way an adult would do to humor a child, "I forgot Finnick! Beetee made a trident for you and it's down in the Weapon Room!"

A trident... A trident! Memories of the weapon used on the water come to me and they're not muddled with Capitol torture scenes or Hunger Games. Nothing has ever changed with tridents, they signify home. With a new grin I eagerly yell up to Katniss as her crew surrounds her, "I better get down there, then!"

"Maybe some pants first, Finnick?"

I look down and for the first time in these few weeks I realize how ridiculous I look in the hospital gown. It all makes sense as to why Gale eyes me with pity, why people don't take me seriously, why Haymitch isn't ready to trust me. This outfit makes me look weak and injured and essentially undoes everything I've accomplished so far. Well, to hell with all that.

I rip off the gown and strike a pose where I place my arms on the back of my head and stick out my crotch, showing off the underwear I've been left in. Katniss blushes and starts to laugh. I decide to respond to her original question, "Why? Do you find this..." I flip back my hair while bringing up one finger to my lip in order to pull it down as I wink, "distracting?"

"I'm only human Odair!" She heads into the hovercraft after throwing me one more smile and I gladly walk back inside the homes of District Thirteen, leaving my clothes wherever they may be. I head to the elevator with the escorts but they must figure that past interaction with Katniss means I'm not totally going crazy so they let me head down to Weapons without them following. It's a new day.

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><p><strong>Ah, the scene they left out of the movie. ;) Thanks for reading!<strong>


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